the story of two lives.
13
II.— HER LIFE.
[Scene—A London Street. Time—Evening.]
I wander up into the crowded street,
I hear the rolling wheels, the busy feet,
I see the misty rings, round lamps, which shine
Far in the distance, as a double line
Of clouded brightness, piercing night’s dim track,
(Glittering like nails upon a coffin black)—
And am no more afraid, for life is here;
Below, I am alone, with Death and Fear.
I hear the rolling wheels, the busy feet,
I see the misty rings, round lamps, which shine
Far in the distance, as a double line
Of clouded brightness, piercing night’s dim track,
(Glittering like nails upon a coffin black)—
And am no more afraid, for life is here;
Below, I am alone, with Death and Fear.
How oft I’ve paused, when all was not yet o’er,
Where yon red globes, above the druggist’s door,
Warned me that I could enter in, and find
The cheaply purchased end of all; unbind
This chain of life, which then held strong and fast—
I now can wait; that guilty wish has passed.
Where yon red globes, above the druggist’s door,
Warned me that I could enter in, and find
The cheaply purchased end of all; unbind
This chain of life, which then held strong and fast—
I now can wait; that guilty wish has passed.
The air revives me, and I lose the dread
Which haunts me when alone. When I am dead
Which haunts me when alone. When I am dead
