112
MESMERISM.
A DEATH-BED CONFESSION.
I.
'Twas here we met that eve; the harvest moon
Shone steadfast, large and bright.
Warm pulses stirred the air, as in mid-noon;
A joy filled all the night.
But chill my heart with boding gloom
When we three met in this dark room.
Shone steadfast, large and bright.
Warm pulses stirred the air, as in mid-noon;
A joy filled all the night.
But chill my heart with boding gloom
When we three met in this dark room.
II.
'T was here she sate; her long luxuriant hair
A silver crescent bound,
(A crescent such as Roman women wear;)
One soft thick curl unwound
Hung down her neck its loose bright fold;
Ah! dainty ivory and gold.
A silver crescent bound,
(A crescent such as Roman women wear;)
One soft thick curl unwound
Hung down her neck its loose bright fold;
Ah! dainty ivory and gold.
