BETRAYED.
These verses embody the last thoughts recorded in the Journal of a young lady of a village on the banks of the St. Lawrence, who was found dead in her chamber on a bright June morning of 186—, and was supposed to have committed suicide during the night.
Henceforth a wanderer, Hie thee, my soul, Over life’s frozen waste, Haste to thy goal.
O never again Shall the down of sweet rest Pillow thy weariness, Spirit unblest!
No fair land of promise Thy vision can reach; No sunshine, no music, No glory of speech.
Regrets and reproaches Are idle and weak, And the insult of pity Brings shame to the cheek.
Farewell, ruined world!— In the depth of star spaces There may be sweet slumber, And love-beaming faces.
There must be some spot In this Universe wide, Where a poor wounded dovelet May haste to and hide.
The raven has flown To his perch through the gloom, And the death-watch is calling His mate in my room.
The wail of the winds, And the rapid’s loud roar, Have a weirdness and terror Felt never before.
A gray mist has settled On land and on sea, And night dews are falling, My spirit, on thee!
When daylight is gone, And the glimmer of stars, Like a ghost at the casement, Looks in through the bars,
It is time to disrobe, And to kneel down and weep, To forgive and forget,— It is time now to sleep!