Forsaken
by Columbine
O brightest solace, darkest haven's wing!
Who tender mystery's gates does unlock
Had I but known 'twas life's most precious thing
I cast aside, my hollow ways to stalk
But of your healing touch I must not talk
Lest rueful anguish wash my world dull red
Beneath your sighing willows I'll not walk
For pain of tears forbidden me to shed
Nor will I think upon the silent dead
Their sorrows fading faster than their names
Their follies like their bones earth-comforted
Cradled to dust their agonies and shames
The proof of years my own ambition blames
With every terror-stricken pair of eyes
That dulls in my sad wake, my touch defames
I give your gift unhailed, unrecognized
In fear they taste what none to me can bring -
Would that I could but feel your touted sting.
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