WE roam, my love and I,
'Mid the rich woodland grasses,
Where, through dense clouds of greenery,
The softened sunshine passes;
But near a rivulet's lonely wave
We come half startled, on--a grave!
We pause, my love and I,
Each thinking, "Who reposes
Here, in the forest tranquillity,
Beneath these sylvan roses?"
When, 'twixt the wild flowers' tangled flame,
Wind-parted, we beheld--a name.
We mark, my love and I,
With thoughts that swiftly vary,
Of doubt, surprise, solemnity,
The flickering name of "Mary;"
My love's own name!--but flickering there,
Each letter burns a hint of fear.
We shrink, my love and I,
Pierced by prescient sorrow,
"To think, my sweet! that thou may'st die
To-night or else to-morrow!"
Each murmurs sadly, under breath:
"O love, malignly watched by death!"
We turn, my love and I,
From that strange grave together,
And o'er our spirits' darkened sky
Roll mists of mournful weather;
With boding grief our hearts are rife--
Death's shadow steals 'twixt love and life!
