Worn Out
You bid me hold my peaceAnd dry my fruitless tears,Forgetting that I bearA pain beyond my years.
You say that I should smileAnd drive the gloom away;I would, but sun and smilesHave left my life’s dark day.
All time seems cold and void,And naught but tears remain;Life’s music beats for meA melancholy strain.
I used at first to hope,But hope is past and, gone;And now without a rayMy cheerless life drags on.
Like to an ash-stained hearthWhen all its fires are spent;Like to an autumn woodBy storm winds rudely shent,—
So sadly goes my heart,Unclothed of hope and peace;It asks not joy again,But only seeks release.