Archive for April 2nd, 2021

Friday, 2 April 2021

Thought by Elizabeth Mary Parsons

Thought! busy, restless, anxious thought,
When will thy ceaseless wave be stayed?
Oh! foolish question, yet how like mankind
To call thee ceaseless, and then ask of thee
How many weary hours must pass
Ere thou art still? Yet one thing more
I ask of thee, What art thou? and why dost come
Uncalled for, uninvited? Coming alike to all:
No courtly guest art thou, the weary think;
Thou art no stranger to the wretched;
And the guilty curse thee for thy hateful company.
Vast and illimitable, beyond compare,
A god with power omnipotent to raise
Or crush the drooping heart. And wilt thou,
Proud as thou must be of thy dominion—
Wilt deal more gently than it is thy wont
With one whose heart is early dimmed by care?
Give me sweet images, and rest my weary soul.
My only hope is rest: oh! give it me, and let
My thankful blessing rest on thy hydra form.

From: Parsons, Elizabeth Mary, The End of the Pilgrimage, and Other Poems, 1859: Charles Westerton: London, pp. 31-31.

Date: 1859

By: Elizabeth Mary Parsons (fl. 1859-1861)