The cause of their separation is still a mystery; whether some rude shock broke the bonds which love had tied, or ardent love was slowly crushed to death by the attrition of dissimilar natures was never known. Certain it is that neither was happy after their separation. The life of each was saddened before it had well begun. At the early age of thirty-seven, when the poor, tired mother laid down her burden, she was soothed by the tender words and sustained by the strong arm of the poet lover who had won her maiden heart in the springtime of life. She died in New York, surrounded with friends, leaving unfinished several poems and a sketch of her life which she labored hard to complete before her summons came. It has never been published. The manuscript, although undoubtedly worthy of preservation, became misplaced and cannot now be found. Her friends deeply regret this, but it may be best that it was lost. While it would surely have found a ready sale, it could not but have brought to its readers more tears than smiles. A key to much of this lost story of her life appears to be given in these lines of her poem, "At the Land's End."
"I am conscript—hurrid to battle
With fates—yet I fain would be
Vanquished and silenced forever
And driven back to my sea.
Oh! to leave this strife, this turmoil,
Leave all undone and skim
Wth the clouds that flee to the hill tops
And rest forever with Him."
