Page:Poems Dorr.djvu/50

I will rehearse the story of my woes,
And bid them lay it in the grave with me
When I depart to join the unnumbered dead.
——————————
Oh, thou unknown, unborn, who through the gloom
And mists of ages in my vaulted tomb
Shalt find this parchment, and with reverent care
Shalt bear it outward to the sun and air:
Oh, thou whose patient fingers shall unroll
With slow, persuasive touch this little scroll:
Oh, loving, tender eyes that, like twin stars,
I seem to see through yonder cloudy bars:
Read Vashti's story, and I pray ye tell
The whole wide world if she did ill or well!

Ahasuerus reigned. On Persia's throne,
Lord of a mighty realm, he sat alone,
And stretched his sceptre from the farthest slope
Of India's hills, to where the Ethiop
Dwelt in barbaric splendor. Kinglier king
Never did poet praise or minstrel sing!
He had no peers. Among his lords he shone
As shines a planet, single and alone;
And I, alas! I loved him, and we two
Such bliss as peasant lovers joy in, knew!
No lowly home in all our wide domain
Held more of peace than ours, or less of pain.
But one dark day—O, woeful day of days,
Whose hours I number now in sad amaze,
Thou hadst no prophet of the ills to be,
Nor sign nor omen came to succor me