A Song by Theodosia Pickrering Garrison — Read

I am as weary as a child / That weeps upon its mother's breast / For joy of comforting. But I / Have no such place to rest.

I am as weary as a bird / Blown by wild winds far out to sea / When it regains its nest. But, Oh, / There waits no nest for me.

What think you may sustain the bird / That finds no housing after flight? / And what the little child console / Who weeps alone at night?