The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1852-09-23
For the National Era.
THE LUNATIC.
BY MISS ALICE CAREY.

Beneath silyery sycamore,
His willow pipe / saw him playing
The heifer down the hill was straying-
Her lengthening shadow went before,
Toward the near stubble land-the lowing
OF labored oxen, pasturing,
Called her that way. The wind was blowing
And the tall reeds against a spring
0funsunned waters, slantwise fell,
But you might hear his song right well.
II would that were bird OF Doe,
Or anything that l am not
Sweet lady love, care not what
So might live and die with thee
The grass beneath its fowery cover
Was softly musical with bees
But well-a day; what sights may please
Tho eyes of an enchanted lover.
In dusty hollows, here and there.
Among gnarled roots the hocks were lying,
0'orclomb by lambs; and, homcward flying,
The birds made dusky all the air.
The yellow light began to fade
From the low tarn-the day was oeri
And still his willow pipe he played,
Under the silvery sycamore
would that wero bird or bee,
Or anything that am not
Lost lady love, care not what,
So might live and die with thee.
Down through the long blue slences
Came the owls cry freAies were trimming
Their torches for tho night, and skimming
Athwart tho glooms; between the trees,
Went the blind, wretched bat. All me,
The night and sorrow well agree.
The meadow king-cups and the furze
Were pretty with the harvest dew,
And in the brook the thistle threw
The shadows of its many burs
/ wis, he lovely was to see,
In the gray twilight's pallid shade,
As on his willow pipe he played,
Crowned with buds of poesy.'
| would that / were bird or bee,
Or anything that / am not
A sound, breeze care not what
So might live and die with thee.
Faint gales of starlight from above
Blew softly from the easement light,
Across the pillow milky white,
Where slept the lady of his love
The floating tresses, black as sloe,
Fell tangled round the dainty snow
OF check and bosom. Gentle seemed
The lady, smiling as she dreamed.
But not of him her visions are,
Who for the sake of the sweet light
Within her easement vexed the night
Her thoughts are travellers otherwhere.
AT midnight on jutting cliff,
= A raven tapped his wings and cried,
Family tho willow pipe replied
The hands upon its stops were stiff
Under the silvery sycamore
The mournful playing was all done
If there be angels, he was one,
For surely all his pain was er.
At morn lady walked that way,
And when she saw his quiet sleeping,
Upon the flowers, she fell a-weeping,
And for her tears she could not pray.
l had been little used to speak
Of comfort, but was moved to see
Her piteOus heart so near to break
For the pale corse beneath the tree
And so, to soothe her grief, 1 said
The way he died, and told his song
Alas. no loved me well and long,
She sighed II would that we were wed
As lovers use, or else that
Were anything that am not,
Or bird or bee, care not what
Here in the pleasant flowers to die"
The mist with many soft fold shrOuds
The eastern hills, birds wake their hymns
And through the sycamoros white limbs
Shines the red climbing Of the clouds
Making my rhymes heard her sigh,
All, woll-a-day, that we were wed
As lovers use, or else that |
Here on the pleasant flowers were dead