Did she struggle for her dear existence?
Did the wild night winds bear off her cry?
Ere the pitiless, swift surging waters,
Caught and smothered her agony;
And again when the black, whirling eddy,
Drew her down to its cold, rocky bed,
Who was it that stood so remorseless
On the strong ice arched over her head?
Men may join and strike hands to hide it,
And agree to say evil is good;
Mingled with the loud roar of the waters,
Rings the cry of our lost sister's blood.
Mirth and song, and untimely music,
May sound up to the starry skies;
Nought of earth can stifle the gnawing
Of that dread worm that never dies.
PART II
Away in a distant city,
Is a stranger all unknown;
Far, far from the leaping river,
That is rushing past his home.
He lay in the stilly silence
Of a quiet, darkened room,
Feeling that the dread death angel
Stands in the gathering gloom.
One foot on shadowy waters,
One foot on the earthly shore;
He swears to the shrinking mortal,
That his time shall be no more.
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