Sing To Me

By Achsa White Sprague

Sing to me some strain enlivening,
For I am sad to-night!
Oh, sing me something seeming
To speak of hope and light!

For feelings strange and withering
Have o'er my spirit fell,
And Memory stern is working
Its dark and fearful spell.

Oh, thousand thoughts of sadness
Are stealing through my mind,
And round my crowded vision
Their darksome fibres wind.

I think of earth's false pleasures,
And all its bitter woe,
Till my mind is past controlling,
And I almost wish to go

Where the wicked cease from troubling,
And the weary are at rest;
In that home that is appointed,
With all the good and blest.

Then sing me something cheering;
And I will try to cast
Aside the bitter feelings
Of the dark and gloomy Past.

An early poem, composed during sickness.