Slowly decay. Her father's temper, too, had grown more wild. She could but pray that ere she passed away, Her mother dead! Her one true guide and friend! Her heart seemed reft in twain. Would she had died! A year at least it meant ere yet again, She needs must list to suits to be denied. O death, or Harold, come and let there be an end! Her mother dead! Her one true guide and friend! Her heart seemed reft in twain. Would she had died! A year at least it meant ere yet again, She needs must list to suits to be denied. Rowena's Grief. She straightway sought the dim-lit chamber, where, Beside her mother's bier, Her heart might break. So frail her bark to stem life's sea so drear. She fain would die, yet live for his dear sake. But then "He might not live!" she cried in wild despair. She straightway sought the dim-lit chamber, where, Beside her mother's bier, Her heart might break. So frail her bark to stem life's sea so drear. She fain would die, yet live for his dear sake.
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