To wander through the world unreconciled,
Heart-weary as a spirit-broken child,
And think it were an hour of bliss like heaven,
If thou couldst DIE—forgiving and forgiven,—
Or with a feverish hope of anguish born,
(Nerving thy mind to feel indignant scorn
Of all the cruel foes that twixt ye stand,
Holding thy heart-strings with a reckless hand,)
Steal to his presence, now unseen so long,
And claim his mercy who hath dealt the wrong!