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'Tis how the Almighty would will that I Should close my career I'd wish to die.
Oh, would you know why I'd wish to die ;
But ask me no more the when, the why,
But as the dreadful hour will come,
(Signed,) J. K.
To my Sister,
My sister dear, my only one!
Accept a brother's prayer: 'Tis all he hath to offer thee
For all thy youthful care,
While smiles around thee play ;
On this thy natal day.
I'm far from thee, my sister,
No blossoms can I bringNo fresh and budding earnests
Of early opening Spring,
Upon thy cheek shall stay,
Comes again thy natal day.
May Autumn's blast ne'er waft thee
On thy Summer flowers a blight; May thy days be calm and peaceful
And thy dreams be sweet by night. When in after years I see thee
May'st thou never be less gay, Or less light in heart and spirit
Than on this thy natal day,
And when thou meetst, my sister,
A kindred heart to thine, May fate approve thy bosom's choice,
And ne'er inconstant shine. May thyavedded life be happy
As a life connubial may, With one stranger more to greet thee
Each returning Natal Day.
She glided along like a bird on the water,
Poising her lifted wing; Quick glancing eyes through the thick haze sought her,
Beautiful, lovely thing.
On dark Navy Island the icebergs were thronging,
Dashed to its rugged shore ;
Throbbed but to beat no more.
At dead of the starlight the foc came upon her,
Sleeping the wave above; Cracked then the firelock,—they boarded and won
In flames to the rapids she drove.
And there was a light like a meteor's streaming
Seen o'er the vaulted blue; While crackled the planks, and the maddened screaming
Echoed the wild woods through.
The Rapids roar'd loud, as the victim approaching,
Gathered the spreading foam ; In the pride of their vigour they deemed her encroaching
Too far on their rocky home.
The wraiths of the stream were wildly shrieking
Schlosser stood calmly by ; White-crested waves on her prow were breaking ;
Darker became the sky,
Niagara laughed a hoarse laugh while sucking
The swan to his awful kiss ;
Leaped down the vast abyss.
Light was thy splash through the Lawrence river,
Swan of the stream, Caroline ; But the spray hath closed o'er thy form for ever,
Unwashed by the ocean brine.
Farewell! No more shall thy eagle pinion
Flap to the the rude north blast ;The tide thou hast rolled on—thy servile minion
Its shroud hath o'er thee cast.