Tossed upon the wreckage of my days, Left lone and wounded by the blows of fate, Self-pity took me in her faithless arms And caressed my sorrows with her hands of grief. Long lay I in darkness and despair, No word of comfort entered the torn heart's cave, No settling calm into the turbulence Of tears that flowed from cataracts of pain. And then the miracle for which I came Enveloped me, I was no more alone. A sweetness like the fragrant breath of Spring Embracing soul gently led me forth, My destiny to follow and my dream.
Poems Undated (1727)
Home
Disciples
Narad
Share your feedback. Help us improve. Or ask a question.