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 !