  A. D. 107. (She speaks.) One minute more of life! Enough to snatch This flower to my bosom, and to catch The parting glance and signal overhead From one who sits and waits to see me dead. One minute more! Enough to let him see How straight the message fell from him to me, And how, his talisman upon my breast, I’ll face the end as calmly as the rest.— Th’ impassive wall of faces seems to break And shew one face aquiver for my sake * * * How different death seems, with a hand that throws Across the pathway of my doom a rose, How brief and paltry life, compared to this O’ertoppling moment of supremest bliss! * * * Farewell! I feel the lions’ hungry breath, I meet your eyes * * * beloved, this is death. 1878. [Decorative image unavailable.] |
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