FOREST TRAGEDY.
Afloat upon the tide one summer night,
Dreamily watching how the moonbeams bright
Made little broken rings of fairy light,
And vaguely lost in that half-conscious mood
That steals upon the sense in solitude,
I drifted near a shadowy island wood
Where all was silent, scarce a leaf was stirred—
So still the air—when suddenly I heard
The piercing, anguished cry as of a bird
In such distress it made the echoes ring
And set the startled silence quivering—
The wild appeal of some sweet feathered thing
In its extremity. And then a sound,
Half-muffled, faint, and all again was drowned
In silence inarticulate, profound.
I went my way; but that despairing cry,
Unheeded and unanswered from on high,
Rang through me like the voice of Destiny.
And in my restless heart the old, deep strain—
The bitter doubt and wild rebellious pain
I thought were laid—came surging up again.