SORRY HER LOT.

Sorry her lot who loves too well,

Heavy the heart that hopes but vainly,

Had are the sighs that own the spell

Uttered by eyes that speak too plainly;

Heavy the sorrow that bows the head

When Love is alive and Hope is dead!

Sad is the hour when sets the Sun —

Dark is the night to Earth's poor daughters

When to the ark the wearied one

Flies from the empty waste of waters!

Heavy the sorrow that bows the head

When Love is alive and Hope is dead!