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290         LUCRETIA MARIA DAVIDSON.


FEATS OF DEATH.

I have pass'd o'er the earth in the darkness of night,
I have walk'd the wild winds in the morning's broad light;
I have paused o'er the bower where the infant lay sleeping,
And I've left the fond mother in sorrow and weeping.

My pinion was spread, and the cold dew of night
Which withers and moulders the flower in its light,
Fell silently o'er the warm cheek in its glow,
And I left it there blighted, and wasted, and low;
I culled the fair bud, as it danced in its mirth,
And I left it to moulder and fade on the earth.

I paused o'er the valley, the glad sounds of joy
Rose soft through the mist, and ascended on high;
The fairest were there, and I paused in my flight,
And the deep cry of wailing broke wildly that night.

I stay not to gather the lone one to earth,
I spare not the young in their gay dance of mirth,
But I sweep them all on to their home in the grave,
I stop not to pity—I stay not to save.

I paused in my pathway, for beauty was there;
It was beauty too death-like, too cold, and too fair!
The deep purple fountain seem'd melting away,
And the faint pulse of life scarce remember'd to play;
She had though on the tomb, she was waiting for me,
I gazed, I passed on, and her spirit was free.

The clear stream roll'd gladly, and bounded along,
With ripple, and murmur, and sparkle, and song;
The minstrel was tuning his wild harp to love,
And sweet, and half-sad were the numbers he wove.


LUCRETIA MARIA DAVIDSON.        291

I pass'd, and the harp of the bard was unstrung;
O'er the stream which roll'd deeply, 'twas recklessly hung;
The minstrel was not! and I pass'd on alone,
O'er the newly raised turf, and the rudely-carved stone.


MORNING.

I COME in the breath of the waken'd breeze,
I kiss the flowers, and I bend the trees;
And I shake the dew, which hath fallen by night,
From its throne, on the lily's pure blossom of white.
Awake thee, when bright from my couch in the sky,
I beam o'er the mountains, and come from on high;
When my gay purple banners are waving afar;
When my herald, gray dawn, hath extinguished each star;
When I smile on the woodlands, and bend o'er the lake,
Then awake thee, O maiden, I bid thee awake!
Thou mayst slumber when all the wide arches of Heaven
Glitter bright with the beautiful fire of even;
When the moon walks in glory, and looks from on high,
O'er the clouds floating far through the clear azure sky,
Drifting on like the beautiful vessels of Heaven,
To their far-away harbour, all silently driven,
Bearing on, in their bosoms, the children of the light,
Who have fled from this dark world of sorrow and night;
Where the lake lies in calmness and darkness, save where
The bright ripple curls, 'neath the smile of a star;
When all is in silence and solitude here,
Then sleep, maiden, sleep! without sorrow or fear!
But when I steal silently o'er the lake,
Awake thee then, maiden, awake! oh, awake!

Transcription Notes:
---------- Reopened for Editing 2023-06-29 10:58:28 ---------- Reopened for Editing 2023-06-29 10:12:28 ---------- Reopened for Editing 2023-06-29 10:15:02