Rosalinds Scroll

I LEFT thee last, a child at heart,

A woman scarce in years:

I come to thee, a solemn corpse

Which neither feels nor fears.

I have no breath to use in sighs;

They laid the dead-weights on mine eyes

To seal them safe from tears.

Look on me with thine own calm look:

I meet it calm as thou.

No look of thine can change this smile,

Or break thy sinful vow:

I tell thee that my poor scornd heart

Is of thine earth--thine earth--a part:

It cannot vex thee now.

I have prayd for thee with bursting sob

When passions course was free;

I have prayd for thee with silent lips

In the anguish none could see;

They whisperd oft, She sleepeth soft--

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