Foreboding

More and more by daily sorrowIs the bright veil drawn aside,That was wont the sad to-morrowFrom the fair to-day to hide.

More and more with wild emotionIs my spirit tossed and torn;While upon life's troubled oceanFearful, shadowy shapes are borne.

In the future's dim uncertain,Gathering clouds obscure the light,Hanging like a sable curtainOver all that once was bright.

Murmurs in my soul keep sighingLike the tempest's rising tone,Into solemn silence dying,With a low bewailing moan.

Shall this scathing tempest find me?Is this shadow but a shade?Pain, and fear, and darkness blind me,And my spirit shrinks afraid.

Backward have I looked imploring,But the sky is overcast;And the clouds of doubt are loweringEven oe'r the sunny past.

How hath sorrow bruised my spirit,Clouded all my hopes and dreams,Till no light of gladness near itShines upon its troubled streams.

Where hath fled the glorious visionThat enchained my soul so long;Points it now in stern derisionTo my faded flowers of song?

Is there then no resurrectionOf the spirit's buried strength?Penance done, and sad reflection,Will restore the boon at length.

Gloom and sorrow I will banish,Tempests shall be overcome;Phantom fears shall all evanish,Exiled to their proper tomb.

If my spirit faint or falter,Glorious vision, lend thine aid!Thou shalt shine above the altarWhere my hope and trust are laid.