At The Last

Thréfl Hftle words within mv braitt Tt"!i hni'k mul forth their one rrfrain, 'Hiree little words, whose dull distress Mouw everythin? and nothinirness, T'nhid'Ien move mv Una instead Of other utteranco : She is deud. Here, Knsterin?, we talked ot lata ■fieside the hfidije-orrowii rarden saté ; Till. smilinï, ere tlio twilicht feil She hívle irte tnke a lost fnrewell. Those were the fina' wciïns alio said- - But ycsterday - and she is dead ! I spe the verv govtn sho wore, The color I had pfftised before : The swaviner lensth, where she Tiould pass, Afade a slisrht rustle on the grass : There in the porch she t.urned her head For ono last smile - and she is dead ! Could t havo known what was to come, Those honrs hal not hpon blind and dumb ! 1 wonld have followed close with Tteath, Have atriven for every clnnce and breath I But now - the final word ia said, The last look taken- she is dead. We were not lovers - such as they Who pledse a faith to laat for aye ; Yet seems the TIniverse to me A riddle now without a key : What means the sunshine overhead, The bloom below -now she is dead ? S? new my grief, its sudden haze Bewildere my accustomed ways ; And yet so old, it seems my heart Was never f rom its pain apart:- What was and is and shall be, wed With that one sentenee- She is dead. íbeÉttcftiganrims