THE JOY OF SOLITUDE.
Break not, my solitary heart!
Thy sadness will not always last;
A brighter day will come for thee,
When all thy sorrows will be past.
’Tis thus I cure each bitter pang
My mourning, lonely bosom feels;
I look beyond all earthly things,
Where faith the Christian’s home reveals.
When sorely aches the stricken heart,
How sweet it is to be alone;
Where precious tears can freely flow,
And none can hear my stifled moan.
Sweet Solitude! thou art to me,
Like rivers in a desert waste
To faint and weary travelers,
Who long the cooling stream to taste.
O, ye, whose hearts are desolate—
Ye tearful mourners, can ye tell
Why, when my heart feels loneliest,
I love to be alone so well?
Is it because e’en friendship’s joy
Recalls the mem’ry of the past,
And lifts the dark impervious veil
Which death has o’er my pleasures cast?
I cannot tell; I am not vers’d
In the heart’s deep philosophy;
I only know when sad I feel,
Dear Solitude! I fly to thee!
December 5, 1841.