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And echo, sighing, answered back the knell,
The lingering whisper of the passing bell.
At this lone hour, to shun the multitude,
Who press with vulgar gaze, with action rude,
Poor Annie to her latest home was borne,
The victim of deceit, of cruelty and scorn.
No sable weeds—no mimic grief was there,—
No stately pall concealed the homely bier;
One follower alone, with hoary head,
Bent low, and wept the unconscious dead.
The lingering whisper of the passing bell.
At this lone hour, to shun the multitude,
Who press with vulgar gaze, with action rude,
Poor Annie to her latest home was borne,
The victim of deceit, of cruelty and scorn.
No sable weeds—no mimic grief was there,—
No stately pall concealed the homely bier;
One follower alone, with hoary head,
Bent low, and wept the unconscious dead.
A few brief moments, and the scene was closed.
Still o'er the grave where Annie's form reposed,
The wretched father knelt,—with accents wild,
In anguish mourning his departed child.
Still o'er the grave where Annie's form reposed,
The wretched father knelt,—with accents wild,
In anguish mourning his departed child.
A REQUEST.
O give me but one friendly heart,
Where I may safely fondly dwell,
Where vile deceit hath not a part,
To break hope's pure enchanting spell.
Where I may safely fondly dwell,
Where vile deceit hath not a part,
To break hope's pure enchanting spell.
No vain regrets shall then be mine,
I will not grieve that joy flies fast,
But calmly unto Fate resign
All else in life, till life be past.
I will not grieve that joy flies fast,
But calmly unto Fate resign
All else in life, till life be past.
