Jane Wilde

27 December 1821 – 3 February 1896

Misery Is Mystery

Misery his heart hath broken
Misery is mystery!
Let the sad one lonely be;
As the Ancients shunned the token
Of a lightning‐blasted tree.

Breathe no word, his doom is spoken
Misery is mystery mistery !
By its scathing lightning fated,
Human hearts are consecrated,
For a higher destiny.
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