Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/155

                                           —She too was near,
Who at God's altar gave her holiest vow
In all the trusting confidence of love
To this her chosen friend.—On her young cheek
There was a cankering grief,—and the pale trace
Of beauty's rosebud nipp'd.—
                                          —Something I said,
But faint and brokenly of former days,
When in the paths of science and of hope,
We walk'd, twin-hearted.—Then there came a peal
Of vacant laughter from those bloated lips,
And the swoll'n hand with trembling haste was stretch'd
For friendship's grasp.
                                 —Twas but a transient rush
Of generous feeling.—At the shouting voice
Of his young children sporting near his bed
His fiery eye-ball flash'd,—and a hoarse threat
Appall'd those innocent ones,—and that fair girl,
From whom intemperance had reft the guide
Which nature gave, in terror hid her face
Deep in her mother's robe.—
                                          —I would have cursed
The poisonous bowl, but then in the meek eye
Of her who loved him, shone such pleading tear
Of silent, deep endurance, that all thought
Of sternness breathed itself away in sighs.
—I went my way,—for how could I sustain
Such change in one so loved!—and as I went
I mourn'd that widowhood and orphanage,
Which hath nor hope nor pity.—Sad I roam'd
Far down the violet-broider'd vale, and when
No eye beheld me, to the earth I bow'd