The Rock Of The Betrayed

by Caroline Sheridon Norton

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The cold faint evening breeze sprang up
And found them floating on;
They glided o'er the glassy lake
Till the day's last streak was gone -

Till the day's last streak had died away
From the chill and purple strand,
And a mist was on the water's face
And a damp dew on the land;

Till you could not trace the living hue
Of lip, or cheek, or eye,
But the outline of each countenance
Drawn dark against the sky.

And all things had a ghastly look,
An aspect strange and drear; -
The lady looked to the distant shore
And her heart beat wild with fear.

10

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