Another
Still apprehending death and pain,
To whom great God shall I complain?
To whom pour out my tears
But to the pow'r that gave me breath,
The arbiter of life and death,
The ruler of the spheres?
Soon to the grave's Cimmerian shade
I must descend without thine aid,
To stop my spirit's flight;
Leave my dear partner here behind,
And blooming babe, whose op'ning mind
Just lets in Reason's light.
When she, solicitous to know
Why I indulge my silent woe,
Clings fondly round my neck,
My passions then know no commands,
My heart with swelling grief expands,
Its tender fibres break.
Father of the creation wide,
Why hast thou not to man deny'd
The silken tye of love?
Why food celestial let him taste,
Then tear him from the rich repast,
Real miseries to prove?
poem by Ann Eliza Bleecker from The Posthumous Works of Ann Eliza Bleecker
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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