Poems Sigourney 1834/"Thou hast made Desolate all my Company"
"THOU HAST MADE DESOLATE ALL MY COMPANY."
Job.
There shone a beam within my bower,
Affection's diamond spark,
The spoiler came with fatal power—
That beam is quenched and dark.
There was a shout of childhood's joy,
A laugh of infant glee,
The earth closed o'er my glorious boy,
My nursling—Where is he?
There seemed a sound like rushing wings,
So thick my sorrows came,
A blight destroyed my precious things,
My treasures fed the flame;
An ocean of unfathomed woe
Swept on with all its waves,
And here all desolate I stand,
Alone amid my graves.
Alone! there flows no kindred tear,
No sympathizing sigh,
The feet of curious throngs are near,
But every cheek is dry.
And is there nought but curtaining turf,
And cold earth loosely thrown,
To shut me from those cherished forms,
My beautiful, my own?
Yet who this fearful deed hath wrought?
Who thus hath laid me low?
Was it a hand with vengeance fraught?
The malice of a foe?
No!—He who called my being forth
From mute, unconscious clay;
He who with more than parent's love
Hath led me night and day;
Who erreth not, who changeth not,
Who woundeth but to heal,
Who darkeneth not man's sunny lot
Save for his spirit's weal:
Therefore I bow me to his sway,
I mourn, but not repine,
And chastened, yet confiding say,
Lord—not my will, but thine.