Page:Songs of exile (IA songsofexile00daviiala).pdf/94

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In sackcloth I will clothe and sable band,

For well-beloved by me

Were they whose lives were many as the sand—

The slain of thee.

I am astonied that the day's fair light

Yet shineth brilliantly

On all things:—it is ever dark as night

To me and thee.

Send with a bitter cry to God above

Thine anguish, nor withhold:

Ah! that He would remember yet His love,

His troth of old!

Gird on the sackcloth of thy misery

For that devouring fire,

Which burst forth ravenous on thine and thee

With wasting dire.