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GLADESMUIR.
To look upon the setting sun, and mark
The twilight's dim approach. He said he was
Most happy that all through his life one wish
Had still been present on his soul—the wish
That he might breathe his native air again;—
That prayer was granted, for he died at home.
One wept for him when other eyes were dry,
Treasured his name in silence and in tears,
Till her young heart's impassioned solitude
Was filled but with his image. She had soothed
And watched his last few hours—but he was gone!
The grave to her was now the goal of hope:
She pass'd, but gently as the rose-leaves fall
Scattered by the spring gales. Two months had fled
