94
THE VOW OF THE PEACOCK.
The darkest hours of night were spent
Before Leoni sought his tent;
Then, feverish, down he lay to ask
For sleep, as if sleep were a task;
When, lo! upon his pillow laid,
A letter, fastened by a braid
Of silken hair and golden hue,—
Ah, writing both and hair he knew!
THE LETTER.
A few last words—they are not much
To ask, my early friend, of thee;
My friend—at least thou still art such—
The dearest earth can hold for me.
