John Anster

1793-1868 / Ireland

Sonnet. And Must I Perish Thus?--A Nameless Tomb

And must I perish thus?--a nameless tomb
Where few shall weep:--some days of writhing pain,
Ere yet I sink:--some hopes that still remain,
Though Reason mock at them:--is this my doom?--
Oft have I sate in silence--then the mind
Was busy, and its images serene
Seemed some dim outlines of the future, seen
In the deep distance, shadowy, undefined:
Then did I weep in very weariness
Of Earth, and wished, how longingly! to leave
This cheerless world, and having ceased to grieve,
For ever dwell in realms of blessedness!
Heaven hears the prayer, and hastes the boon to give,
The wasting victim sighs and prays--to live!--
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