TO OUR LADY OF WOE
Dolores, dear, cease, kindly cease thy moaning;
Thy cares, thy troubles, are thy own.
None, none, will heed thy hollow groaning—
“Weep, and you weep alone!”
“Laugh! and the world laughs with you!”
Sorrow none would choose to borrow;
These are maxims old and true,
“Clouds to-day—sunshine to-morrow.”
Unhappy priestess,—pray be good!
Why, why all these sighs and tears?
Come, learn of Joy and God’s plenitude!
To Bliss, not Grief, belongs thy blooming years.