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Why died I not before that fatal morn,
That thunder'd in mine ears, "Thy Child is gone;
"Thy Joys are fled to Heaven; thy hope is done;
"And thy few days to come are all forlorn!"
Why, when the stroke, too heavy to be borne,
Had smote affrighted Reason from her throne,
And life's chill power suspended; why, too soon,
Did the warm current to its course return!
Twice twenty summer suns had roll'd away,
And seen my hours a clear smooth surface flow;
Prepared already nature's debt to pay;
Scarce would my head have shrunk beneath the blow.
Why now, in misery, do I lingering stay,
While happiness foregone but mocks my woe?
This work was published before January 1, 1927, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.