PRESENTIMENT.
BY MRS. PRISCILLA P. LOMPAYRAC.
I know that I shall die! and oh, beloved,
Chide me not now if o'er thy heart I send
The echoes of that voice which I have long
In silence heard.
I would have been the sunshine o'er thy path,
But such was not my lot. The light must fade—
The tones thou lovest linger not. I die
Ere the young freshness of our love hath flown
I die, and thou wilt be on earth alone!
Speak not, dear friend! Let this sad thought now find
An utterance—solemn, strange, as it hath swept
O'er me like some strong whirlwind in its might;
But now 't hath melted to a moaning wind,
Which lulleth me to peace. The flush of health
Is on my cheek, and the cool blood moves on
Through all my veins, unfevered in its flow;
And yet I know that I shall die, and ere
The young fair flowers, which thou and I have sown,
Have faded on their stems, be all at rest!
There is strange music in the air, and tones
Upon the twilight breeze, and voices heard
In midnight dreams, for those who early die;
And I have heard them all, and my doomed heart
With life hath striven until the victory
Is won. I would that we had earlier met,
Dear friend, that all the sunshine of my first
Young dreams were poured on thee, for now my love
Hath caught that settled sadness which deep love
On earth must ever wear. Have I not looked
On death, and are they not companions e'er?
And memory, grows it not tearful too?
Do high hopes wither not?
'Twas thus, while life's young spring bloomed on my cheek,
My heart grew sorrowful beyond its years,
And learned to fear and doubt, and for its dreams
And hopes a coffin made, all sealed and hid,
Till thou didst loose them once again.
But, oh! they could not spring to meet thine own,
With all the freshness of their early day.
There lived the memory of the past,
And when I clasped thy hand in mine, and looked
Into thine eyes, and heard thy words of love,
My heart grew dark with sad and tearful thought.
I have remembered me,
That hands which I had clasped in love were now
The earthworms' prey; soft eyes were quenched, and tones
Of love were changed by time, or stilled by death!
Oh! I have drained from even joy the dregs
Of grief, which in its cup have mingled ever.
Perchance its tracery was on my brow,
And all my love, the fond, and deep, and true,
Hath been upon thy lot a shadow cast.
'Tis well that I depart ere it grow deep,
And link the sunshine of its joyous soul
With its dark hues.
Thou wilt remember me? I know thou wilt:
Thou wilt sit here, perchance, where we recline
Beneath the shade of vines which I have reared
And the sweet flower-scents will go floating by,
Blent with all mournful memories of the past.
Yet do not weep, but think of me as one
Whose heart was like the restless moaning wave,
Which frets itself to peace—whose love was all
Too deep for bliss on earth, and who above
Will watch with anxious ministry thy steps.
I have had dreams—bright, holy dreams—dear friend.
I would have poured the fulness of these thoughts,
Which burn within, upon the breath of song—
Have left my name upon the lips of men
As one whose foot had trod within the realm
Of mind afar, that when upon the breath
Of fame it floated past, thou might'st have said,
"She was mine own, most worthy of my love."
It was in vain—I die, all unfulfilled
The promise of my youth, leaving my name
But in thy heart.
Lay me to rest in that lone lovely spot
Which I have loved, and o'er my grave plant flowers
Let not the funereal willow wave above:
I would remind thee, by all happy things,
Of her thou loved and lovest; and sometimes come
To that sweet spot and think of me, for all
My kindred's graves are far, and they who loved
Me in my early years will see me not.
Friend, dearest friend, thy love, thy love alone
Is all the sunshine which, unshaded ever,
Was thrown upon my path: shall I not bear
It all away? and if mine own hath caught
From earth a shade of gloom, will it not soar
Where all is light? I say not now farewell,
But, in that last stern hour, close thou mine eyes,
Which smile adieu to earth and thee, and let
Me rest in peace.