Her heart all trembling with delicious joy
Mingled with timid fears?
Upon that brow,
So proud and pure, and once so shadowless,
A troubled darkness lay; the sweet young lip
Would quiver for a moment, and then grow
As still and mute as marble; and her cheek
Was whiter than a lily's, and her eyes.
When ever and anon she raised them up,
As if beseechingly to the blue sky.
Were dark with an expression of despair
And an unspoken anguish. Tightly twined
Were her small, slender fingers, with a clasp
That pressed the crimson blood most painfully
Through their clear nails.
In broken murmurings
From these quivering lips came forth the words,
Telling to the gay trees and the bright air.
And all the beautiful and heedless scene,
Of the wild sorrow that had come and hushed
The love and trust of her young, passionate soul.
"Oh, shining leaves, I would ye fell
To cover my dark grave!
I would I dared to pray to Heaven
To take the life it gave!
Oh, river! murmuring river!
Flowing bright, and cold, and deep,
Can your low song sing the anguish
In my aching heart to sleep?
Never! never! earth is mournful!
All things mock my weary sight!
I turn away from sunny skies—
From hope, and love, and light!
Joy's radiant wing is folded;
It will never wave again!
Bright the hour when I met thee.
Oh, impassioned Clarence Vane!
