WEARY of the ceaseless war
Beating down the baffled soul,-
Thoughts that like a scimitar
Smite us fainting at the goal.

Weary of the joys that pain-
Dead sea fruits whose ashes fall,
Drying up the summer-s rain-
Charnel dust in cups of gall!

Weary of the hopes that fail,
Leading from the narrow way,
Tempting strength to actions frail-
Hand to err, and foot to stray.

Weary of the battling throng,
False and true in mingled fight;
Weary of the wail of wrong,
And the yearning for the night!

Weary, weary, weary Heart!
Lacerated, crush-d and dumb.
None to know thee as thou art!
When will rest unbroken come?