Still, vainly free, through many a cheerless day,
From weaker ties turns helplessly away,
Sick for the smile that bless’d its home of yore,
The natural joys of life that come no more;
And, all bewildered by the abyss, whose gloom
Dark and impassible as is the tomb,
Lies stretch’d between the future and the past,—
Sinks into deep and cold despair at last.
Heaven give thee poverty, disease or death,
Each varied ill that waits on human breath,