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Home  »  An American Anthology, 1787–1900  »  1439 Sorrow

Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

By KatrinaTrask

1439 Sorrow

O THORN-CROWNED Sorrow, pitiless and stern,

I sit alone with broken heart, my head

Low bowed, keeping long vigil with my dead.

My soul, unutterably sad, doth yearn

Beyond relief in tears—they only burn

My aching eyelids to fall back unshed

Upon the throbbing brain like molten lead,

Making it frenzied. Shall I ever learn

To face you fearlessly, as by my door

You stand with haunting eyes and death-damp hair,

Through the night-watches, whispering solemnly,

“Behold, I am thy guest forevermore.”

It chills my soul to know that you are there.

Great God, have mercy on my misery!