O THOU well-tried in grief, <br /> <br />Grant to thy child relief, <br />And view with mercy this unhappy one! <br /> <br /> <br />The sword within thy heart, <br /> <br />Speechless with bitter smart, <br />Thou Lookest up towards thy dying son. <br /> <br /> <br />Thou look'st to God on high, <br /> <br />And breathest many a sigh <br />O'er his and thy distress, thou holy One! <br /> <br /> <br />Who e'er can know <br /> <br />The depth of woe <br /> <br />Piercing my very bone? <br />The sorrows that my bosom fill, <br />Its trembling, its aye-yearning will, <br /> <br />Are known to thee, to thee alone! <br /> <br /> <br />Wherever I may go, <br /> <br />With woe, with woe, with woe, <br />My bosom sad is aching! <br /> <br />I scarce alone can creep, <br /> <br />I weep, I weep, I weep, <br />My very heart is breaking. <br /> <br />The flowers at my window <br /> <br />My falling tears bedewed, <br />When I, at dawn of morning, <br /> <br />For thee these flow'rets strewed. <br /> <br />When early to my chamber <br /> <br />The cheerful sunbeams stole, <br />I sat upon my pallet, <br /> <br />In agony of soul. <br /> <br />Help! rescue me from death and misery! <br /> <br />Oh, thou well-tried in grief, <br /> <br />Grant to thy child relief, <br />And view with mercy my deep agony!<br /><br />Johann Wolfgang von Goethe<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/from-faust-vii-margaret-placing-fresh-flowers-in-the-flower-pots/
