Poems (Helen Jenkins)/Sadness

For works with similar titles, see Sadness.
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SADNESS.
O'er my weary head a phantom Folds her gloomy wings to-night;Darkly o'er my tear-damp pillow Falls her boding, spectral light.Through the long, lone hours I've waited, Waited vainly for her flight;Still her vigil near she keepeth,And her wild eye never sleepeth, Still so strangely cold and bright;
Till my sad o'er-burdened spirit Uttereth an anguished cry,"Is there none to aid, to save me From this crushing agony?Must this gloomy, ghostly phantom, Ever o'er me brooding nigh,Fill my weary heart with blackness,—Starless and undawning darkness,— Shadows that may never fly?"
Yet no ear my wild cry heedeth, All is blackness as before;Till my tortured spirit shrieketh, "Stay! for I can bear no more!Do not let thy dreadful presence Cast a deeper shadow o'er!"Still the silence grows more weary,Still the solemn night-time dreary Shrouds my spirit evermore.
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