Some heart that oft has bled at Mis’ry’s cry;
Hands that could hurl oppression to the ground,
Or wipe the falling tear from Sorrow’s eye.
But these hard times a cheerless gloom have thrown
O’er all their smiling prospects of delight;
Chill Penury, with heart-apalling frown,
And hollow eye, now stands before their sight.
Full many a tear bedims Misfortune’s eye,
And, streaming from its source, unseen descends.
Full many a sad and unavailing sigh