A Lamentation

Draw thy bellows o’er the burning coal;
Skim the dross, mingled with my soul.
Cast the waste on thy refuse heap;
Temper thy steel with the tears I weep.
Rivers run down to the sea,
Yet seas run dry; – all is vanity!
Mountains fall; flowers fade;
And my withered heart has found no shade.
Through barren lands, through the desert waste,
Without relent my soul is chased.
Draw thy bellows o’er the burning coal
Of the raging fire in my soul!
Oh! that time might be turned back,
That I might bask in days of yore;
Oh! that these years could fall away,
And Oh! to see my love once more.
Burn! burn! burn! vent thine ire!
All my tears but feed the fire.
Weep, weep, weep. Coals burn on.
My love is gone. My love is gone.