Page:Poems Davidson.djvu/250

But it had ever been his lot to throw
O'er those who passed him, shades of gloom and woe;
His love for Laura had been deeply cursed;
Hatred's black phial o'er his brow had burst;
He felt himself detested, and he knew
That she whom he adored, abhorred him too.
But O, the hapless, the ill-fated one,
She who could love him for himself alone,
Love him with all the crimes upon his head,
Love when the crowd with detestation fled,—
A deep dark shade, a wild, a with'ring blast
Fell o'er her destiny; the die was cast;
She was a wretched one, a sweet flower faded,
Whose wand'ring tendrils round the night-shade braided,
Clung to its baleful breast,—hung drooping there,
Self-sacrificed, it drank the poisoned air
And with'ring
 1825.[Unfinished.]