University of Virginia Library

FRAGMENT.

There is a something in my heart that speaks
Of death! E'en in my wildest bursts of joy
That thought is ever present, but not then
In fearfulest array; e'en as the man
Who dwells beside a gushing rivulet,
Will seem to hear, when far away, the sound
Of rippling waters, so 'tis blended with
My every thought. In hours of tranquilness,
Fancy displays the green grass and wild flowers
Growing in rich luxuriance o'er my grave,
And I, a blessed spirit, hovering near
The gentle ones I love, unheeding then
The grosser air of earth; for well I know
That yon bright heaven would be too sad a home
Were I bereft of them.
And yet I sometimes sigh for length of days:
I scarce know why, but when I see the crowds
Of gifted ones that throng around the shrine
Of Liberty, and bring their blooming bays
To form a garland for Columbia's brow,
Which there may live for ages, I could wish
I too might add a wild flower. This is vain,
Nay, more than vain; such thoughts should never dwell
Within the quiet depths of woman's heart.
While Halleck wreathes the laughing vine amid
The verdant oak leaves and the myrtle bough,
And Bryant culls the lily and the rose
To twine with the rich autumn leaves, 'tis vain
To dream a pale half-budded violet
Could mingle with their sweets.