BY A CHASM OF FEARFUL

A root was wanting and the flower sufficed to please the hollow-hearted!

With steps so slow, with words so few..

He dwelt among the gloomy rocks

Around his home on every side,

Where the deep salt water ran,

The distant ships sailed far away,

Over the moaning wave,

The sea-birds swept, with pale whie wings,

As phantoms haunt the grave.

It was dreary on an autumn night,

To hear the tempest sweep,

When gallant ships were perishing,

Alone amid the deep.

He was stranger to the shore,

A stranger he remained,

For to his heart, or hearth, or board,

None ever welcome gained.

Great must have been the misery,

Of guilt upon his mind,

That thus could sever all the ties,

Between him and his kind.

How many share such destiny,

How many, lured by fancy's beam,

Ask the impossible to be,

And pine the victim of a dream.