Delight has fled the office of my soul And I am left a pauper counting dreams Once highly prized but now a worthless dole, My credit gone and all the world it seems
Is richer far than I who found the goal Of love and life and now have lost the key, For death from life exacts a heavy toll, The vaults are bare and sorrow beggars me.
In this accounting of my grief-torn days A penury of hope my paltry share, Unless the fallen spirit humbly raise Eyes to a light through darkness' thoroughfare.
This bankrupt world of avarice deny And life's familiar offerings grow stale, If I could trade inheritance of "I' For selflessness the mission would not fail.
If I could fill the cup with gratitude In morning's waking song and evening's hymn Embrace the whole of life, no particle exclude, A ray would dawn no dark could hope to dim.
A sorrow-laden commerce stifles us, A note we hold that one day death shall call Unless some long-awaited numinous Descent remove the golden body's pall.
Poems Undated (1727)
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