Dark hours of tearless, sleepless grief, <br />Of woe, denied the soft relief <br />Of tears, to soothe the burning smart <br />That throbs and festers in my heart. <br />Oft has this grief my soul o'erspread, <br />Like funeral pall above the dead. <br />Ah, me! beneath the coffin-lid <br />Of murdered hopes for ever hid, <br />My promised joys of love and trust <br />With them lie mouldering in the dust. <br />Ah! not in sentimental strain <br />Of love-sick maid and sighing swain <br />I sing, who, crossed in hapless love, <br />The tender anguish deeply prove- <br />Nor that fierce grief when loss of fame, <br />Of wealth, of power, the baffled aim <br />Of worldly schemes, sends to the heart <br />Keen disappointment's venom'd dart. <br />Is such thy grief? you ask.-Ah, no! <br />A darker, deeper, deadlier woe <br />Is mine. Within its poisonous folds <br />My writhing heart a serpent holds; <br />I vainly struggle in the toils, <br />More closely wind the crushing coils. <br />No hand but His, to whom is given <br />All power in earth, all power in heaven, <br />The hideous reptile can unwind, <br />My crushed and broken heart upbind. <br />Lord, speak with power, I Thee implore, <br />As when, by lone Gennesaret's shore, <br />As God, Thou gave the high command, <br />That legion fiends might not withstand. <br />Oh, speak the words of power again, <br />All power, all words but Thine are vain; <br />This demoniac, fiercely driven, <br />Assaulting man, defying heaven, <br />'Twere joy ineffable, complete, <br />To see him sitting at Thy feet, <br />Renewed in heart, in mind restored, <br />Oh, speak the word; oh, save him, Lord!<br /><br />Janet Hamilton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dark-hours-the-drunkard-s-mother/
