’Tis thus I shall cherish Till life’s gloaming end, And never let perish The face of a friend.
Then come, gentle maiden, And dwell with the few That in my soul’s Aidenn I know to be true;—
Some distant, some sleeping The sleep of the just, Are here in the keeping Of memory’s trust.
With these let thy spirit Abide in its place, So shall I inherit New goodness and grace.
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!