170
THE GOLD-SEEKER.
'T was upon a Southern desert, and beneath a burning sky,
That a pilgrim to the gold-clime sunk, o'erwearied, down to die!
He was young, and fair, and slender, but he bore a gallant heart,—
Through the march so long and toilsome he had bravely held his part.
His companions round him gathered, with kind word and pitying look,
As in fever-thirst he panted, like "the hart for the water-brook";
While their last cool drops outpouring on his brow and parched lips,
Sorrowed they to mark his glances growing dim with death's eclipse.
'T was upon a Southern desert, and beneath a burning sky,
That a pilgrim to the gold-clime sunk, o'erwearied, down to die!
He was young, and fair, and slender, but he bore a gallant heart,—
Through the march so long and toilsome he had bravely held his part.
His companions round him gathered, with kind word and pitying look,
As in fever-thirst he panted, like "the hart for the water-brook";
While their last cool drops outpouring on his brow and parched lips,
Sorrowed they to mark his glances growing dim with death's eclipse.
