Far in the cradling sky, br Dawn opes his baby eye, br Then I awake and cry, br Woe is me! br br br Morn, the young hunter gay, br Chases the shadows gray, br Then I go forth and say, br Woe is me! br br br Noon! drunk with oil and wine, br Tho' not a grief is thine, br Yet shalt thou shake with mine! br Woe is me! br br br Eve kneeleth sad and calm, br Bearing the martyr's palm; br I shriek above her psalm, br Woe is me! br br br Night, hid in her black hair br From eyes she cannot dare, br Lies loud with fierce despair; br Then I sit silent where br She cries from her dark lair br Woe is me!br br Sydney Thompson Dobellbr br