My Comforter

Well hast thou spoken, and yet not taughtA feeling strange or new;Thou hast but roused a latent thought,A cloud-closed beam of sunshine broughtTo gleam in open view.

Deep down, concealed within my soul,That light lies hid from men;Yet glows unquenched—though shadows roll,Its gentle ray cannot control—About the sullen den.

Was I not vexed, in these gloomy waysTo walk alone so long?Around me, wretches uttering praise,Or howling o'er their hopeless days,And each with Frenzy's tongue;—

A brotherhood of misery,Their smiles as sad as sighs;Whose madness daily maddened me,Distorting into agonyThe bliss before my eyes!So stood I, in Heaven's glorious sun,And in the glare of Hell;My spirit drank a mingled tone,Of seraph's song, and demon's moan;What my soul bore, my soul aloneWithin itself may tell!

Like a soft air above a sea,Tossed by the tempest's stir;A thaw-wind, melting quietlyThe snow-drift on some wintry lea;No: what sweet thing resembles thee,My thoughtful Comforter?

And yet a little longer speak,Calm this resentful mood;And while the savage heart grows meek,For other token do not seek,But let the tear upon my cheekEvince my gratitude!