At Castle Wood

The day is done, the winter sunIs setting in its sullen sky,And drear the course that has been run,And dim the hearts that slowly die.

No star will light my coming night,No morn of hope for me will shine;I mourn not Heaven would blast my sightAnd I never longed for joys divine.

Through life's hard task I did not askCelestial aid, celestial cheer;I saw my fate without its mask,And met it too without a tear.

The grief that prest my aching breastWas heavier far than earth can be;And who would dread eternal restWhen labour's hour was agony?

Dark falls the fear of this despairOn spirits born of happiness;But I was bred the mate of care,The foster-child of sore distress.

No sighs for me, no sympathy,No wish to keep my soul below;The heart is dead in infancy,Unwept for let the body go.