 | Poems And Songs |  |
97
THE SUICIDE.
He sat upon a mossy crag, where dark and deep below
The winter-swollen river rushed, with dark and foamy flow:
Of care his soul a surfeit had, and 'mid the darkness round,
The roaring of the river seemed a sweet congenial sound.
The winter-swollen river rushed, with dark and foamy flow:
Of care his soul a surfeit had, and 'mid the darkness round,
The roaring of the river seemed a sweet congenial sound.
Long had he fought with want, and wished he could the fates control,
And oft this dark and awful thought had flashed upon his soul—
“The ever-fruitful field of life were surely better bare,
Than nourishing to monster-growth the weary weeds of care.”
And oft this dark and awful thought had flashed upon his soul—
“The ever-fruitful field of life were surely better bare,
Than nourishing to monster-growth the weary weeds of care.”
98
The storm had blown its fury forth, and now, in sullen calm,
The lion of the bygone hour seemed gentle as a lamb.
The stars looked down as though they said, “'Tis over, man, rejoice!”
But he only saw the dark deep flood, and heard its gentle voice.
The lion of the bygone hour seemed gentle as a lamb.
The stars looked down as though they said, “'Tis over, man, rejoice!”
But he only saw the dark deep flood, and heard its gentle voice.
Once, in the Eden of his heart, Hope had her chosen home;
Now of the “dear one dead” that heart was but the lonely tomb;
And o'er it, with triumphant shriek, the ruthless fiend, Despair,
Spread forth his sable plumes, and told he was the master there.
Now of the “dear one dead” that heart was but the lonely tomb;
And o'er it, with triumphant shriek, the ruthless fiend, Despair,
Spread forth his sable plumes, and told he was the master there.
He heard it. Wildly leaping up, he, leaning forward, stood
As if he looked for heaven beneath the gurgling, boiling flood.
“'Tis there!” he cried. “Cold world, farewell!” then from the crag's dim height
Leapt on the semblance of a star, and broke its quivering light.
As if he looked for heaven beneath the gurgling, boiling flood.
99
Leapt on the semblance of a star, and broke its quivering light.
Far down the glen, where sunbeams of the winter could not shine,
When morn arose, a human form lay on the debris line;
The pulse was still, and from the eyes no spark of life-light shone—
But all the dismal tale was known to Heaven—and Heaven alone.
When morn arose, a human form lay on the debris line;
The pulse was still, and from the eyes no spark of life-light shone—
But all the dismal tale was known to Heaven—and Heaven alone.
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