Solitude.
There is a time when tears will flow,1
To soothe the throb of care ;2
When the gaunt eye of hollow woe3
Looks up and mocks despair !4
’Tis where the breeze has no control,5
Where pine trees darkly nod,6
And silence yields the gasping soul7
To nature and to God !8
Good spirits there a healing charm9
On wounded bosoms shed ;10
And virtue nerves the languid arm,11
And lifts the drooping head ;12
And then we deem a time will come,13
When tyrant wrong shall fly,14
Or fondly dream of martyrdom,15
And how the proud ones die !16
Under the blue and boundless sky,17
Couch’d on the bright green earth,18
Oh ! then we smile for vanity,19
And feel life’s only worth ;—20
We trim no coronet for wealth,21
For fame nor honour sigh ;22
We pray to God to live in health,23
In love and charity.24
And he whose cares in ruthless troops25
Come thronging day by day,26
To sap his heart, and make his hopes27
A slow and inchmeal prey,28
Shall here, the legion to defy,29
Inhale a heavenly power ;30
Breathe resignation’s balmy sigh,31
And bless that silent hour !32