Page:Poems - Southey (1799) volume 1.djvu/127

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Was but to me one wild waste wilderness;I had no share in nature's patrimony,Blasted were all my morning hopes of Youth,Dark Disappointment follow'd on my ways,Care was my bosom inmate, and keen WantGnaw'd at my heart. Eternal One thou know'stHow that poor heart even in the bitter hourOf lewdest revelry has inly yearn'dFor peace.My Father! I will call on thee,Pour to thy mercy-seat my earnest prayer,And wait thy peace in bowedness of soul.O thoughts of comfort! how the afflicted heart,Tired with the tempest of its passions, restsOn you with holy hope! the hollow howlOf yonder harmless tenant of the woodsBursts not with terror on the sober'd sense.If I have sinn'd against mankind, on themBe that past sin; they made me what I was.In these extremest climes can Want no more
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