William Lisle Bowles, 1762-1850

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William Lisle Bowles
1762-1850

O Time! who know’st a lenient hand to lay
Softest on sorrow’s wound, and slowlythence,
Lullin to sad repose the weary sense,
The faint pang stealest unperceived away;
On thee I rest my only hope at last,
And think, when thou hast dried the bitter tear
That flows in vain o’er all my soul held dear,
I may look back on every sorrow past,
And meet life’s peaceful evening with a smile;-
As some lone bird, at day’s departing hour,
Sings in the sunbeam, of the transient shower
Forgetful, thouh its wings are wet the while:-
Yet, ah! how much must that poor heart endure,
Which hopes from thee, and thee alone, a cure!

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