 | Poems by Two Brothers |  |
126
THE GRAVE OF A SUICIDE
Hark! how the gale, in mournful notes and stern,
Sighs thro' yon grave of aged oaks, that wave
(While down these solitary walks I turn)
Their mingled branches o'er yon lonely grave!
Sighs thro' yon grave of aged oaks, that wave
(While down these solitary walks I turn)
Their mingled branches o'er yon lonely grave!
Poor soul! the dawning of thy life was dim;
Frown'd the dark clouds upon thy natal day;
Soon rose thy cup of sorrow to the brim,
And hope itself but shed a doubtful ray.
Frown'd the dark clouds upon thy natal day;
Soon rose thy cup of sorrow to the brim,
And hope itself but shed a doubtful ray.
That hope had fled, and all within was gloom;
That hope had fled—thy woe to phrenzy grew;
For thou, wed to misery from the womb—
Scarce one bright scene thy night of darkness knew!
That hope had fled—thy woe to phrenzy grew;
For thou, wed to misery from the womb—
Scarce one bright scene thy night of darkness knew!
127
Oft when the moon-beam on the cold bank sleeps,
Where 'neath the dewy turf thy form is laid,
In silent woe thy wretched mother weeps,
By this lone tomb, and by this oak-tree's shade.
Where 'neath the dewy turf thy form is laid,
In silent woe thy wretched mother weeps,
By this lone tomb, and by this oak-tree's shade.
“Oh! softly tread: in death he slumbers here;
“Tis here,” she cries, “within his narrow cell!”—
The bitter sob, the wildly-starting tear,
The quivering lip, proclaim the rest too well!
“Tis here,” she cries, “within his narrow cell!”—
The bitter sob, the wildly-starting tear,
The quivering lip, proclaim the rest too well!
A. T.
| Poems by Two Brothers | |