718
I meant to find Her when I came—
Death—had the same design—
But the Success—was His—it seems—
And the Surrender—Mine—
I meant to tell Her how I longed
For just this single time—
But Death had told Her so the first—
And she had past, with Him—
To wander—now—is my Repose—
To rest—To rest would be
A privilege of Hurricane
To Memory—and Me.
