Poems (Barker)/The Maniac's Death

by Alice J. Green Barker

The Maniac's Death.

The stream is dark, I dare not cross,
And the waters are madly flowing,
And they do not answer my frenzied call,
Oh! tell me where are you going?
See it dance and whirl as it passes by,
Oh! madly flowing river—
One moment pause in your headlong course
And my soul's sweet peace deliver!

For you hold it now in your waters dark,
And clasp in your black arms nearer,
The treasured hopes of by-gone years,
Which grew with years still dearer,
And a thousand devils urge me on,
To cross the foaming water,
Their eyes aglow with the light of hell,
And their hands all red with slaughter.

Go back! go back! let me cross in peace,
For lo! the morn is breaking,
And its seat, the glorious "King of day,"
In the rosy east is taking.
But no! for again 'tis dark as night
And the shrieks of the beings evil,
Still sound like the trumpeted call of death
Or of demons in midnight revel.

I'm going now, while there's not a sound
Save the wail of the passing river;
I'll pray, as I enter the midnight stream,
"Oh Lord! my soul deliver."
I'll pray, and I have not prayed before
Since beside my mother kneeling,
I offered my simple childlike prayer,
So full of childish feeling.

And see! the demons cannot come;
And the waves that are o'er me flowing,
Have cooled the fever, and filled my heart
With a blessed peace in going.
And all about me are shining ones;
And truly the morn in breaking,
And its seat, the glorious "King of Day"
In the rosy east is taking.