The Suicide.The sun had set. The ruddy cloudsHad changed to gloomy gray,And sweet, sad twilight soothed the hourForsaken by the day.A village road, with nest-like cots,And oaks, on either hand.An old stone bridge, whose single arch,A dark, deep river spanned:And sounds of distant merry shoutsWere borne upon the breeze,When, on the bridge there came a maid,And sank upon her knees.A maid? Perhaps a slighted wife—Or neither—none could tell—A stricken life—a broken heart,About to bid farewell—Farewell to that, which lacking hope,Is but a dreary waste;Where Nature’s brightest, fairest sweetsGrow bitter to the taste.She rose—advanced unto the brink—A wild, imploring prayer—Alas! she stood, unloved—alone—A statue of despair.One plaintive wail, and then a plunge—The wavelets laved the shore—Then all was still. The river flowedAs smoothly as before.—Geo.M. Vickers.
The Suicide.The sun had set. The ruddy cloudsHad changed to gloomy gray,And sweet, sad twilight soothed the hourForsaken by the day.A village road, with nest-like cots,And oaks, on either hand.An old stone bridge, whose single arch,A dark, deep river spanned:And sounds of distant merry shoutsWere borne upon the breeze,When, on the bridge there came a maid,And sank upon her knees.A maid? Perhaps a slighted wife—Or neither—none could tell—A stricken life—a broken heart,About to bid farewell—Farewell to that, which lacking hope,Is but a dreary waste;Where Nature’s brightest, fairest sweetsGrow bitter to the taste.She rose—advanced unto the brink—A wild, imploring prayer—Alas! she stood, unloved—alone—A statue of despair.One plaintive wail, and then a plunge—The wavelets laved the shore—Then all was still. The river flowedAs smoothly as before.—Geo.M. Vickers.
The sun had set. The ruddy cloudsHad changed to gloomy gray,And sweet, sad twilight soothed the hourForsaken by the day.A village road, with nest-like cots,And oaks, on either hand.An old stone bridge, whose single arch,A dark, deep river spanned:And sounds of distant merry shoutsWere borne upon the breeze,When, on the bridge there came a maid,And sank upon her knees.A maid? Perhaps a slighted wife—Or neither—none could tell—A stricken life—a broken heart,About to bid farewell—Farewell to that, which lacking hope,Is but a dreary waste;Where Nature’s brightest, fairest sweetsGrow bitter to the taste.She rose—advanced unto the brink—A wild, imploring prayer—Alas! she stood, unloved—alone—A statue of despair.One plaintive wail, and then a plunge—The wavelets laved the shore—Then all was still. The river flowedAs smoothly as before.—Geo.M. Vickers.
The sun had set. The ruddy cloudsHad changed to gloomy gray,And sweet, sad twilight soothed the hourForsaken by the day.A village road, with nest-like cots,And oaks, on either hand.An old stone bridge, whose single arch,A dark, deep river spanned:And sounds of distant merry shoutsWere borne upon the breeze,When, on the bridge there came a maid,And sank upon her knees.A maid? Perhaps a slighted wife—Or neither—none could tell—A stricken life—a broken heart,About to bid farewell—Farewell to that, which lacking hope,Is but a dreary waste;Where Nature’s brightest, fairest sweetsGrow bitter to the taste.She rose—advanced unto the brink—A wild, imploring prayer—Alas! she stood, unloved—alone—A statue of despair.One plaintive wail, and then a plunge—The wavelets laved the shore—Then all was still. The river flowedAs smoothly as before.—Geo.M. Vickers.
The sun had set. The ruddy clouds
Had changed to gloomy gray,
And sweet, sad twilight soothed the hour
Forsaken by the day.
A village road, with nest-like cots,And oaks, on either hand.An old stone bridge, whose single arch,A dark, deep river spanned:
A village road, with nest-like cots,
And oaks, on either hand.
An old stone bridge, whose single arch,
A dark, deep river spanned:
And sounds of distant merry shoutsWere borne upon the breeze,When, on the bridge there came a maid,And sank upon her knees.
And sounds of distant merry shouts
Were borne upon the breeze,
When, on the bridge there came a maid,
And sank upon her knees.
A maid? Perhaps a slighted wife—Or neither—none could tell—A stricken life—a broken heart,About to bid farewell—
A maid? Perhaps a slighted wife—
Or neither—none could tell—
A stricken life—a broken heart,
About to bid farewell—
Farewell to that, which lacking hope,Is but a dreary waste;Where Nature’s brightest, fairest sweetsGrow bitter to the taste.
Farewell to that, which lacking hope,
Is but a dreary waste;
Where Nature’s brightest, fairest sweets
Grow bitter to the taste.
She rose—advanced unto the brink—A wild, imploring prayer—Alas! she stood, unloved—alone—A statue of despair.
She rose—advanced unto the brink—
A wild, imploring prayer—
Alas! she stood, unloved—alone—
A statue of despair.
One plaintive wail, and then a plunge—The wavelets laved the shore—Then all was still. The river flowedAs smoothly as before.—Geo.M. Vickers.
One plaintive wail, and then a plunge—
The wavelets laved the shore—
Then all was still. The river flowed
As smoothly as before.
—Geo.M. Vickers.