A MAN'S STORY.
In the sad, long years, the estrangingThat lie, like a sombre screenTwixt thy lawless, impassioned ranging,And quiet that since hath been;I have heard of an heart whose lovingTurned ne'er from thy perilous wake,Outdaring the world's reproving,And anguish of death for thy sake.
Now, as thou sit'st silent beside me,While the sunset draws near its end,And the down of the evening may hide me,Speak tenderly, friend to friend.While the fading mountains before theeCall the heights of thy wandering back,Recount me the love she bore thee,That failed not, for wrench or rack.
