SUNLESS DAYS.
They come to ev'ry life — sad, sunless days, With not a light all o'er their clouded skies; And thro' the dark we grope along our ways With hearts fear-filled, and lips low-breathing sighs.
What is the dark? Why cometh it? and whence? Why does it banish all the bright away? How does it weave a spell o'er soul and sense? Why falls the shadow where'er gleams the ray?
Hast felt it? I have felt it, and I know How oft and suddenly the shadows roll From out the depths of some dim realm of woe, To wrap their darkness round the human soul.