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the gold-seeker.
There are piteous sounds of mourning in a far-off Northern home,
Where o'er childhood's kindling dawn-light sudden clouds of darkness come;
There are heard a father's groanings, and a mother's broken sighs,—
There a voiceless sorrow troubleth the clear deeps of maiden eyes.
Where o'er childhood's kindling dawn-light sudden clouds of darkness come;
There are heard a father's groanings, and a mother's broken sighs,—
There a voiceless sorrow troubleth the clear deeps of maiden eyes.
In their fearful dreams, at midnight, they behold him left to die,
With the hard, hot ground beneath him, and above a brazen sky,—
In his fainting, in his thirsting, in his pain and wild despair,
Vainly calling on his dear ones, through the heavy desert air!
O, the bitter self-reproaches mingled in the cup they drain!
O, their poor hearts, pierced and tortured by a sharp remorseful pain,—
That they sent their best and dearest from his home-love's sheltering fold,
In the madness of adventure, on that pilgrimage of gold!
With the hard, hot ground beneath him, and above a brazen sky,—
In his fainting, in his thirsting, in his pain and wild despair,
Vainly calling on his dear ones, through the heavy desert air!
O, the bitter self-reproaches mingled in the cup they drain!
O, their poor hearts, pierced and tortured by a sharp remorseful pain,—
That they sent their best and dearest from his home-love's sheltering fold,
In the madness of adventure, on that pilgrimage of gold!
