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THE LOT OF THOUSANDS, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: When hope lies dead within the heart
Last Line: The weary wanderer home.


When hope lies dead within the heart,
By secret sorrow long conceal'd,
We shrink lest looks or words impart
What may not be reveal'd.

'T is hard to smile when one would weep,
To speak when one would silent be;
To wake when one would wish to sleep,
And wake to agony.

Yet such the lot for thousands cast,
Who wander in this world of care,
And bend beneath the bitter blast,
To save them from despair.

Yet Nature waits her guests to greet,
Where disappointment cannot come;
And Time leads with unerring feet
The weary wanderer home.





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