"Oh, Arthur! stay"—he turned, and all was o'er—

My sorrow, my repentance—all was vain—

I dreamt the dream of life and love once more,

To wake to sad reality of pain.

He spoke, but to my ear no sound was plain,

Until the little wicket-gate we passed—

That sound of home I never heard again,

And then "drive on—drive faster—yet more fast."

I raised my weeping head—Oh! I had looked my last.

Months passed: one evening, as of early days,

When first my bosom thrilled his voice to hear,

And thought upon the gentle words of praise

Which forced my lips to smile, and chased my fear:

I sang—a sob, deep, single, struck my ear;

Wondering, I gazed on Arthur, bending low—

His features were concealed, but many a tea,

Quick gushing forth, continued fast to flow,

Stood where they fell, then sank like dew-drops on the snow.

Oh yes! however cold in after years,

At least it cost thee sorrow then to leave me;

And for those few sincere, remorseful tears,

I do forgive (though thou couldst thus deceive me)

The years of peace of which thou didst bereave me.

Yes—as I saw those gushing life-drops come

Back to the heart which yet delayed to grieve me,

Thy love returned a moment to its home,

Far, far away from me for ever then to roam.

Still hope was left me, and each tedious hour

Was counted as it brought his coming near;

And joyfully I watched each fading flower;

Each tree, whose shadowy boughs grew red and sear;

And hailed sad Autumn, favourite of the year.

At length my time of sorrow came—'twas over,

A beauteous boy was brought me, doubly dear,

For all the Tears that promise caused to hover

Round him—'twas past—I claimed a husband in my lover.

"My father' oh, my father!" vain the cry—

I had no father now; no need to say

"Thou art alone!." I felt my misery—

My father, yet return,—return! the day

When sorrow had availed is passed away:

Tears cannot raise the dead, grief cannot call

Back to the earthy corse the spirit's ray—

Vainly eternal tears of blood might fall;

One short year since, he lived—my hopes now perished all!

Years have gone by—my thoughts have risen higher—

I sought for refuge at the Almighty's throne;

And when I sit by this low mould'ring fire,

With but my Bible, feel not quite alone.

Lingering in peace, till I can lay me down,

Quiet and cold in that last dwelling place,

By him o'er whose young head the grass is grown—

By him who yet shall rise with angel face,

Pleading for me, the lost and sinful of my race.

And if I still heave one reluctant sigh—

If earthly sorrows still will cross my heart—

If still to my now dimmed and sunken eye

The bitter tear, half checked, in vain will start;

I hid the dreams of other days depart,

And turn, with clasping hands, and lips compress'd,

To pray that Heaven will soothe sad memory's smart;

Teach me to bear and calm my troubled breast;

And grant her peace in Heaven who not on earth may rest.