Explore "The Reproach" by James Parkerson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Canst thou see my wasted frame, / And hear aloud sad Betsy's name, / And still unmov'd remain; / Yes, thou canst hear it every day, / And to it oft attention pay: / Without a sigh or pain.
But when ye do in heaven appear, / My Father's spirit will be there; / And hear thy awful doom.
Thy soul will then tormented be, / For dealing so unjust with me; / Who wither'd ere my bloom.
When virtuous souls are with the blest, / Thy guilty shade will find no rest; / But hurl'd to endless pain, / Were wicked man is made to know, / That Satan dealt the painful blow; / And will torment again.
No wealth can lull to rest my fears, / Or time dry up my falling tears; / Till I from life am flown: / Then do I hope once more to see, / My parents both along with me; / And they their Betsy own.