Harper's New Monthly Magazine, No. IX.—February, 1851.—Vol. II.

She sat down on a bank of Primroses
Swayed to and fro, as in a wind of Thought
That moaned about her, murmuring alow,
"The common lot, oh for the common lot."

Thus spoke she, and behold a gust of grief
Smote her. As when at night the dreaming wind
Starts up enraged, and shakes the Trees and sleeps.

"Oh, early Rain, oh passion of strong crying,
Say dost thou weep, oh Rain, for him or me?
Alas, thou also goest to the Earth
And enterest as one brought home by fear.

"Rude with much woe, with expectation wild,
So dashest thou the doors and art not seen.
Whose burial did they speak of in the skies?

"I would that there were any grass-green grave
Where I might stand and say, 'Here lies my Love.'
And sigh, and look down to him, thro' the Earth,
And look up thro' the clearing skies, and smile."

Then the day passed from bearing up the Heavens
The sky descended on the Mountain-tops
Unclouded; and the stars embower'd the Night.

Darkness did flood the Valley; flooding her.
And when the face of her great grief was hid
Her callow heart, that like a nestling bird
Clamored, sank down with plaintive pipe and slow
Her cry was like a strange fowl in the dark;
"Alas, Night," said she; then like a faint ghost,
As tho' the owl did hoot upon the hills,
"Alas, Night." On the murky silence came
Her voice like a white sea-mew on the waste
Of the dark deep a-sudden seen and lost
Upon the barren expanse of mid-seas
Black with the Thunder. "Alas, Night," said she,
"Alas, Night." Then the stagnant season lay
From hill to hill. But when the waning Moon
Rose, she began with hasty step to run
The wintry mead; a wounded bird that seeks
To hide its head when all the trees are bare.
Silent – for all her strength did bear her dread —
Silent, save when with bursting heart she cried,
Like one who wrestles in the dark with fiends.
"Alas, Night." With a dim, wild voice of fear
As tho' she saw her sorrow by the moon.

The morning dawns; and earlier than the Lark
She murmureth, sadder than the Nightingale.

"I would I could believe me in that sleep
When on our bridal morn I thought him dead,
And dreamed and shrieked and woke upon his breast.

"Oh God I can not think that I am blind.
I think I see the beauty of the world.
Perchance but I am blind, and he is near.

"Even as I felt his arm before I woke,
And clinging to his bosom called on him,
And wept, and knew, and knew not it was he.

"I do thank God I think that I am blind.
There is a darkness thick about my heart
And all I seem to see is as a dream.
My lids have closed, and have shut in the world.

"Oh Love, I pray thee take me by the hand;
I stretch my hand, oh Love, and quake with dread
I thrust it, and I know not where. Ah me,
What shall not seize the dark hand of the blind?

"How know I, being blind, I am on Earth?
I am in Hell, in Hell, oh Love! I feel
There is a burning gulf before my feet!
I dare not stir and at my back the fiends!
I wind my arms, my arms that demons scorch,
Round this poor breast and all that thou shouldst save,
From rapine. Husband, I cry out from Hell;
There is a gulf. They seize my flesh. (She shrieked.)

"I will sink down here where I stand. All round
How know I but the burning pit doth yawn?
Here will I shrink and shrink to no more space
Than my feet cover. (She wept.) So much up
My mortal touch makes honest. Oh my Life,
My Lord, my Husband! Fool, that cryest in vain!
Ah, Angel! What hast thou to do with Hell?

"And yet I do not ask thee, oh my Love,
To lead me to thee where thou art in Heaven
Only I would that thou shouldst be my star,
And whatsoever Fate thy beams dispense
I am content. It shall be good to me.

"But tho' I may not see thee, oh my Love,
Yea tho' mine eyes return and miss thee still,