The poems of John G. C. Brainard A new and authentic collection, with an original memoir of his life |
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THE DROWNED BOY. |
 | The poems of John G. C. Brainard |  |
THE DROWNED BOY.
Sad was the lot, sad was the tale
Of him who lies unconscious here;
His locks are lifted by the gale,
No mourner comes his loss to wail,
No friend to wait upon his bier.
Of him who lies unconscious here;
His locks are lifted by the gale,
No mourner comes his loss to wail,
No friend to wait upon his bier.
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I've seen him in some lonely hour
Gazing upon the bright blue sky,
And though the black'ning cloud might lour,
Careless he'd view the coming shower,
Nor heed the storm that muttered by.
Gazing upon the bright blue sky,
And though the black'ning cloud might lour,
Careless he'd view the coming shower,
Nor heed the storm that muttered by.
Sad did he seem for one so young,
'T was in a bitter mood he smiled,
And as he paced the path along,
He had a strange and wayward song,
And gestured to his measure wild.
'T was in a bitter mood he smiled,
And as he paced the path along,
He had a strange and wayward song,
And gestured to his measure wild.
Whether 't was want or cruelty
That caused his mind thus wild to rove,
Or whether to his boyish eye,
His fancy gave the madd'ning, joy,
Of ceaseless, hopeless, idle love,
That caused his mind thus wild to rove,
Or whether to his boyish eye,
His fancy gave the madd'ning, joy,
Of ceaseless, hopeless, idle love,
I know not,—but he never slept,
Upon a quiet, peaceful bed;
He to himself his vigils kept,
None but himself for him has wept,
None mourn him now that he is dead.
Upon a quiet, peaceful bed;
He to himself his vigils kept,
None but himself for him has wept,
None mourn him now that he is dead.
| The poems of John G. C. Brainard | |