My Comforter

Well hast thou spoken, and yet, not taught

 A feeling strange or new;

Thou hast but roused a latent thought,

A cloud-closed beam of sunshine, brought

 To gleam in open view.

Deep down, concealed within my soul,

 That light lies hid from men;

Yet, glows unquenched-though shadows roll,

Its gentle ray cannot control,

 About the sullen den.

Was I not vexed, in these gloomy ways

 To walk alone so long ?

Around me, wretches uttering praise,

Or howling o'er their hopeless days,

 And each with Frenzy's tongue;-

A brotherhood of misery,

 Their smiles as sad as sighs;

Whose madness daily maddened me,

Distorting into agony

 The bliss before my eyes !

So stood I, in Heaven's glorious sun,

 And in the glare of Hell;

My spirit drank a mingled tone,

Of seraph's song, and demon's moan;

What my soul bore, my soul alone

 Within itself may tell !

Like a soft air, above a sea,

 Tossed by the tempest's stir;

A thaw-wind, melting quietly

The snow-drift, on some wintry lea;

No: what sweet thing resembles thee,

 My thoughtful Comforter ?

And yet a little longer speak,

 Calm this resentful mood;

And while the savage heart grows meek,

For other token do not seek,

But let the tear upon my cheek

 Evince my gratitude !