POEMS.
63
Yet ere I sank to rest—"Oh! Thou," I said,
"Pain's readiest balm, and Sorrow's surest aid,
Whose power can every pang and care repell,
Oh! Friend of Misery, deign thy name to tell!"—
"Pain's readiest balm, and Sorrow's surest aid,
Whose power can every pang and care repell,
Oh! Friend of Misery, deign thy name to tell!"—
I paused.—Her gracious smile consent revealed;
With holiest kiss my weary eyes She sealed,
And while her lips inhaled my sighing breath,
Softly She whispered—"Friend, my name is Death."—
With holiest kiss my weary eyes She sealed,
And while her lips inhaled my sighing breath,
Softly She whispered—"Friend, my name is Death."—
