The early lost I mourn, <br />Ah, not the early dead; <br />The early lost return, <br />Young hope's fair blossom shed. <br />Gone up like dust. <br />Oh, deeper than the wail <br />That sounds above the dead <br />It is, when hope must fail, <br />And love is chill'd and dead; <br />No hope, no trust. <br /> <br /> <br />Oh curse most dread and dire, <br />Oh thing most black and foul; <br />Slakeless thirst and quenchless fire <br />That scorcheth heart and soul! <br />I can but weep. <br />Oh most insidious foe, <br />That, vampire-like, doth cling, <br />Draining the blood; yet lo, <br />Soft fanning with its wing <br />The victim's sleep! <br /> <br /> <br />Oh sad and anxious mind, <br />Dost think all goodness gone <br />And nought but ill behind, <br />That thus thou makest moan? <br />Oh calmly think. <br />Calm, saidst thou? I am calm- <br />The calm of deep despair; <br />Say, know'st thou of a balm <br />To heal (the cure is rare), <br />That plague-sore drink! <br /> <br /> <br />The words, the sounds I hear, <br />The sights that pass me by, <br />They smite and wound my ear, <br />And blast my wakeful eye <br />By night and day. <br />Thine are these horrors, drink! <br />My country's curse and shame; <br />From them my soul would shrink, <br />And 'gainst thy power and name <br />For ever pray.<br /><br />Janet Hamilton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-victim-of-drink-the-early-lost/
