aches

‘ These rose-leaves to my heart be press’d,

‘Honoria, while it aches for you !’

And hopes they have together, and omit,

Forgotten for the time, old aches, despairs,

Forebodings for the future.

To think of him as one to touch

With aches, indignities, and cares;

She sees him rather at the goal,

Her glass is blest but she as good as blind

Holds till hand aches and wonders what is there;

Her glass drinks light, she darkles down behind,

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains

My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,

Yet dere's times when I furgit em,--

Aches an' pains an' troubles all,--

An' it's when I tek at ebenin'

Of lies most palpable, uncouth, forlorn,

That say life's full of aches and tears and sighs,--

Oh, how with more than dreams the soul is torn,

Deep in my heart that aches with the repression,

And strives with plenitude of bitter pain,