She lived on to see the roses Of another summer wane, But the light of reason never Shone in her sweet eyes again. Once where blue and sparkling waters Through a quiet valley run, Fertilizing field and garden, Wandered I at set of sun; Twilight as a silver shadow O'er the softened landscape lay, When amid a straggling village Paused I in my rambling way. Plain and brown the church before me In the little graveyard stood, And the laborer's axe resounded Faintly, from the neighboring wood. Through the low, half-open wicket Deeply worn, a pathway led: Silently I paced its windings Till I stood among the dead. Passing by the grave memorials Of departed worth and fame, Long I paused before a record That no pomp of words could claim: Simple was the slab and lowly, Shaded by a fragrant vine, And the single name recorded, Plainly writ, was "Madeline." But beneath it through the clusters Of the jessamine I read, "_Spes_," engraved in bolder letters,-- This was all the marble said. THE DEFORMED ARTIST. The twilight o'er Italia's sky Had spread a shadowy veil, And one by one the solemn stars Looked forth, serene and pale; As quietly the waning light Through a high casement stole, And fell on one with silver hair, Who shrived a passing soul. No costly pomp or luxury Relieved that chamber's gloom, But glowing forms, by limner's art Created, thronged the room: And as the low winds carried far The chime for evening prayer, The dying painter's earnest tones Fell on the languid air. "The spectral form of Death is nigh, The thread of life is spun: Ave Maria! I have looked Upon my latest sun. And yet 't is not with pale disease This frame is worn away; Nor yet--nor yet with length of years;-- A child but yesterday," "I found within my father's hall No fervent love to claim, The curse that marked me at my birth Devoted me to shame. I saw that on my brother's brow Angelic beauty lay; The mirror gave me back a form That thrilled me with dismay." "And soon I learned to shrink from all, The lowly and the high; To see but scorn on every lip, Contempt in every eye. And for a time e'en Nature's smile A bitter mockery wore, For beauty stamped each living thing The wide creation o'er," "And I alone was cursed and loathed: 'T was in a garden bower I mused one eve, and scalding tears Fell fast on many a flower; And when I rose, I marked, with awe And agonizing grief, A frail mimosa at my feet Fold close each fragile leaf."