METHOUGHT I heard a voice upon me call, As listless in desponding mood I lay, Whiling the melancholy hour away, Mid fears that did my fondest hopes enthral. 'T was not the trumpet voice of fame I heard, Nor fortune's, nurse of impotence and care; Nor yet the moanings deep of fell despair. But oh! it was the voice of one that stirr'd In every leaf! Sweet, sweet the accents came, And stole in pure affection to my heart, Healing within wounds bleeding 'neath the smart Of bitterest wo. Up sprang my gladden'd frame Restored, as henceforth brighter days to see; -- Thy voice it was I heard, meek Piety. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ABANDONED RANCH, BIG BEND by HAYDEN CARRUTH WHEN THE SPEED COMES by ROBERT FROST BROTHERHOOD by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DOWN BY THE CARIB SEA: 4. THE LOTTERY GIRL by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON PLANKED WHITEFISH by CARL SANDBURG |