Menken, Adah Isaacs
|SALE OF SOULS.|
A soul mantled in glory, and cold to the world;60O horrible sale!
O seal of blood!
Give back my Eros.
His bowstring still sounds on the blast, yet his arrow was
broken in the fall.
Oh leave me not on the wreck of this dark-bosomed ship
While Eros lies pale on the rocks of the world.
Driven before the furious gale by the surging ocean's
The strong wind lifting up the sounding sail, and whistering
through the ropes and masts; waves lash the
many-colored sides of the ship, dash her against the
The strength of old ocean roars.
The low booming of the signal gun is heard above the
Oh how many years must roll their slow length along my
life, ere the land be in sight!
When will the morning dawn?
When will the clouds be light?
When will the storm be hushed!
It is so dark and cold.
Angels of the weary-hearted, come to your child!
Build your white wings around me.
Pity me, pity me.