 | The Lady of La Garaye |  |
87
She woke to crippled days; which, sad and slow
And infinitely weary as they were,
At first, appeared less hard than faney deemed. to bear
But as those days rolled on, of grinding pain,
Of wild untamed regrets, and yearnings vain,
Sad Gertrude grew to weep with restless tears
For all the vanished joys of blighted years.
And most she mourned with feverish pitcous pining.
When o'er the land the summer sun was shining;
And all the volumes and the missals rare,
Which Claud had gathered with a tender care,
Seemed nothing to the book of Nature, spread
Around her helpless feet and weary head.
| The Lady of La Garaye | |