Has Sorrow Thy Young Days Shaded — Summary

Has sorrow thy young days shaded, As clouds o'er the morning fleet? Too fast have those young days faded That, even in sorrow, were sweet? Does Time with his cold wing wither Each feeling that once was dear? -- Then, child of misfortune, come hither, I'll weep with thee, tear for tear.

Has love to that soul, so tender, Been like our Lagenian mine, Where sparkles of golden splendour All over the surface shine -- But, if in pursuit we go deeper, Allured by the gleam that shone, Ah! false as the dream of the sleeper, Like Love, the bright ore is gone.

Has Hope, like the bird in the story, That flitted from tree to tree With the talisman's glittering glory -- Has Hope been that bird to thee? On branch after branch alighting, The gem did she still display, And, when nearest, and most inviting, Then waft the fair gem away?

If thus the young hours have fleeted, When sorrow itself look'd bright; If thus the fair hope hath cheated, That led thee along so light; If thus the cold world now wither Each feeling that once was dear -- Come, child of misfortune, come hither, I'll weep with thee, tear for tear.

Show the whole poemHide the poem

Learn Poems app

Try the Learn Poems app

Everything from the website trainer, and more: new exercises, voice recording and sharing, reminders, quick review.

Thomas Moore speaks directly to someone whose early years have been darkened by loss and disappointment. The speaker sees a person whose youth, once sweet even in sorrow, has faded too quickly, and whose trust in love and hope has been betrayed. Love is compared to a mine that glitters on the surface but yields only emptiness when pursued; hope is like a legendary bird that lures you from branch to branch, always showing its jewel, then flying off just as you reach for it.

Faced with a world that has withered every dear feeling, the speaker doesn’t offer advice or hollow reassurance. Instead, he extends a simple, deeply human invitation: come here, and I’ll weep with you, matching each of your tears with one of my own. The mood is intimate and mournful, but there’s gentle comfort in the promise of shared sorrow — a recognition that some pain can’t be fixed, only felt together.

More by Thomas Moore

All poems
ContemplativeThomas Moore

This Life Is All Chequer'd With Pleasures and Woes

This life is all chequer'd with pleasures and woes, That chase one another like waves of the deep -- Each brightly or darkly, as onward it flows, Reflecting our eyes, as they sparkle or weep.
InspiredThomas Moore

War Song

Remember the Glories of Brien the Brave Remember the glories of Brien the brave, Though the days of the hero are o'er, Though lost to Mononia and cold to the grave,
ContemplativeThomas Moore

It Is Not the Tear At This Moment Shed

It is not the tear at this moment shed, When the cold turf has just been laid o'er him, That can tell how beloved was the friend that's fled, Or how deep in our hearts we deplore him.