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And hubbub, Muriel enter'd with it, 'See!
Found in a chink of that old moulder'd floor!'
My Miriam nodded with a pitying smile, As who should say 'that those who lose can find.'
Then I and she were married for a year,
One year without a storm, or even a cloud;
And you my Miriam born within the year;
And she my Miriam dead within the year.
I sat beside her dying, and she gaspt: 'The books, the miniature, the lace are hers,
My ring too when she comes of age, or
She marries; you - you loved me, kept your word.
You love me still "Io t'amo." - Muriel
Had graspt a daisy from your Mother's And all her talk was of the babe she
(Our old bright bird that still is veering there
Above his four gold letters) 'and the light,'
She said, was like that light' - and there she paused,
And long; till I believing that the girl's Lean fancy, groping for it, could not find
One likeness, laugh'd a little and found her two
A warrior's crest above the cloud of war'.
A fiery phoenix rising from the smoke, The pyre he burnt in.' — 'Nay,' she said, 'the light
That glimmers on the marsh and on the grave.'
And spoke no more, but turn'd and
So, following her old pastime of the brook,
She threw the fly for me; but oftener left
That angling to the mother. 'Muriel's health
Had weaken'd, nursing little Miriam. Strange!
She used to shun the wailing babe, and dotes
On this of yours.' But when the matin
That hinted love was only wasted bait, Not risen to, she was bolder. 'Ever since
You sent the fatal ring I told her 'sent
To Miriam,' 'Doubtless-ay, but ever, since
In all the world my dear one sees but you
In your sweet babe she finds but you
Her heart a mirror that reflects but you.'
I gazed into the mirror, as a man
Strike upward thro' the shadow; yet at last,
Gratitude loneliness - desire to keep So skilled a nurse about you alwaysnay!
Some half remorseful kind of pity too Well! well, you know I married Muriel Erne.
'I take thee Muriel for my wedded wife'
I had forgotten it was your birthday,
When all at once with some electric
A cold air pass'd between us, and the hands
Fell from each other, and were join'd again.
No second cloudless honeymoon was
For by and by she sicken'd of the farce,
Than ever you were in your cra moan'd,
'I am fitter for my bed, or for my gra I cannot go, go you.' And then rose,
She clung to me with such a hard e brace,
So lingeringly long, that half-amazei
I felt for what I could not find, the k
About me, gone! and gone in th
Then, hurrying home, I found her na in house
Or garden up the tower-an icv air Fled by me.-There, the chest was ope
The sacred relics tost about the floorAmong them Muriel lying on her faceI raised her, call'd her, 'Muriel, Murie, wake!'
The fatal ring lay near her; the glazed
Glared at me as in horror. Dead! I took