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