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OH! WANDERER
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


172

OH! WANDERER

This article though written on the decease of one may be applied to the strangers generally who fell victims to the prevalence of the Yellow Fever in Charleston.

Oh! Wanderer from thine earthly home,
So gentle and so dear,
Did fortune bid thy footsteps roam,
To fate and sorrow here?
Too warmly shone our summer sun,
And life with thee, too bright—
For death, the lowly bud will shun,
For that which lives in light!
'Twere vain to say, that thou wert dear,
Where worth and virtue shone;
More vain, if we could keep thee here,
To say, thou had'st not gone!
What life and love and art could do,
Were minister'd in vain—
We could but mark thy cheeks pale hue,
And watch thy brow of pain!
So calm and placid, still and clear,
Thine eyes last fires shone,
We knew that higher, happier sphere,
Had claim'd thee for its own:
Yet felt that sadness fill each breast,
Which springs from self desire;
And griev'd even at the happy rest,
That we ourselves require!
Where was thine early cottage—they
Who foster'd thee in youth?
Afar! they view not that decay,

173

Which they will deem not truth!
But strangers, shall attend thy bed,
Who know thy worth full well;
And one shall hold thy aching head,
Whose love,

When I say that the subject of this article was C. M. Keith of this city, who died during the Yellow Fever in the year 1823, this passage will be sufficiently understood.

what tongue can tell?

Who deems thou'lt wake to bless her smile—
Return her bosom's press—
Ah! well if thoughts like these beguile
That bosom's loveliness!
To every generous virtue known,
Yet other spheres denied,
That thou should'st live to gladden one,
Who glad for thee had died.
And thinks each moment past in vain,
That brings thy form not near,
The step so lov'd, that ne'er again,
Shall meet her list'ning ear!
Yes, she had died, could she have saved,
Thy form from Fate's decree;
Tho' in that loss, her bosom waived
Its heav'n—its all—in thee!