Now wild the blasts of Autumn sweep along
These rugged rocks, this solitary shore !
Mingled with Ocean's deep tempestuous roar,
And many a sea-bird's melancholy song.
But ah ! more wild the tumult of my soul--
More turbulent the feelings tossing there;
For ev'ry hope is blasted by Despair,
And clouds of darkness o'er my prospects roll,
The winds that agitate the foaming deep
Ere long shall sink to quiet calm repose;
But still this aching heart will sigh its woes,
Still will these streaming eyes in anguish weep--
Till death shall bid the storms of passion cease,
And lay me in the silent home of peace.
Susan Evance (1808)
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