I'm standing at thy couch Estelle--
Thy hand in mine--awake my love!--
O'er silent lake and leafy dell
Calm eve is sinking from above;
Wilt thou not look upon the scene
Which from yon casement woos thine eyes?
The light shines beauteously between
The far off mountains where its last blush dies.
I kiss thee sweet--how cold thy lip!--
How pale thy cheek!--thy brow how white!--
And chill as unsunned flowers that dip
Their colorless leaves in dews of night.
In vain--in vain I call on thee--
Thou answerest not that once loved call--
Thou hast no word--no look for me--
How heavily from mine thy hand doth fall!
Yet dearest, while I gaze on thee,
Whom I have loved so long--so well--
It seems not all reality
That I have lost thee quite, Estelle.
I have a sense, though vague and dim,
Of something which my heart hath stilled--
The formless shadow of a dream
That with oppressive thoughts my mind hath filled.
The mist is fading--yet so fair!
Can this be death?--this, beauteous sleep!--
Yes!--Yes!--and they will lay thee where
The earth is damp and worms do creep--
Oh! God!--that reptiles--horrid thought!--
Must banquet on those lovely limbs,
Whose faultless outline, seemeth not
Traced for this world of dark and sullen dreams.
It must be so--the grave--the grave
Relentless swallows all we love,--
Mind--Beauty--Virtue--naught can save--
And yet there is a God above!--
I only know--I only feel
Thou'rt doomed to be the earthworm's prey,
The newt will o'er thy bosom steal,
And loathsome things through thy rich tresses stray.
* * * * *
* * * * *
I hear the sound of many feet--
A moment more, they will be here--
One kiss--one more.--Farewell my sweet,
Let others weep around thy bier,
Who loved thee well--yet loved thee less--
I cannot weep--the fount is dry
In sorrow's utter wilderness--
And with a tearless voiceless thought I die.[1]
[Footnote 1: But as it is, I live and die unheard,
With a most voiceless thought sheathing it as a sword.
[_Childe Harold_, Canto III. Stanza xcvii.
Not a plagiarism but a _coincidence_; a softer term, and more in
vogue.]
For the Southern Literary Messenger.