For works with similar titles, see A Sigh.
A SIGH.
It rose on the unconscious air,
So still it woke no echo there;
But, wafted upwards, pass'd on high,
And bore its message to the sky.
So still it woke no echo there;
But, wafted upwards, pass'd on high,
And bore its message to the sky.
Perchance it told of grief and pain,
Of hopes that ne'er would bloom again;
Perchance it pleaded to high heaven,
For sins that longed to be forgiven.
Of hopes that ne'er would bloom again;
Perchance it pleaded to high heaven,
For sins that longed to be forgiven.
It might have told of one or all—
We hear not angels' footsteps fall—
We only know it woke in pain,
And passed, and came not back again.
We hear not angels' footsteps fall—
We only know it woke in pain,
And passed, and came not back again.