Worn Out

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You bid me hold my peace
  And dry my fruitless tears,
  Forgetting that I bear
  A pain beyond my years.

  You say that I should smile
  And drive the gloom away;
  I would, but sun and smiles
  Have left my life's dark day.

  All time seems cold and void,
  And naught but tears remain;
  Life's music beats for me
  A melancholy strain.

  I used at first to hope,
  But hope is past and, gone;
  And now without a ray
  My cheerless life drags on.

  Like to an ash-stained hearth
  When all its fires are spent;
  Like to an autumn wood
  By storm winds rudely shent,--

  So sadly goes my heart,
  Unclothed of hope and peace;
  It asks not joy again,
  But only seeks release.

© Paul Laurence Dunbar