That has some fearful deed of darkness done,
With grief upon thy cheek; while sad despair
Coldly refuseth thee a shelter where.
Repose might give thee welcome. Or hast thou
Washed with pale light thy melancholy brow,
Because thee dreams Hope brought thee once, have fled,
And left thee thoughts of sadness in their stead?
Ah no! it is that thou art too near earth
Ever to witness rosy pleasure's birth;
And ceaseless gazing on the thousand showers
Of ill that inundate this world of our's
Has touched thy heart, and bid thine aspect be
For our misfortunes, pale with sympathy.