Sorry Her Lot

SORRY her lot who loves too well,Heavy the heart that hopes but vainly,Sad are the sighs that own the spellUttered by eyes that speak too plainly;Heavy the sorrow that bows the headWhen Love is alive and Hope is dead!

Sad is the hour when sets the Sun—Dark is the night to Earth's poor daughtersWhen to the ark the wearied oneFlies from the empty waste of waters!Heavy the sorrow that bows the headWhen Love is alive and Hope is dead!