A YOUTH'S SUICIDE.

He handed his life a poisoned draught,

With a scornful smile and a cold, cold glance,

And the merry bystanders loudly laughed

( For the rollicking world was gay! ).

He thought she knew not the juice, perchance;

But her tears fell down to her sobbing lips

While the merry-makers turned to the dance

( The world was mocking fate that day! ).

To his life he kissed his finger-tips:

“Drink deep the beaker, and so farewell!”

Then slowly the poisoned draught she sips

( How they laugh at her meek dismay! ).

He sprang to her arm, which loosely fell,

Crying: “No! not yet that dire eclipse!”

Now loud laughed the dancers, and whirled pell-mell

( While the echoes hurried away! ).

The mad world clustered, it seemed, around.

“Farewell!” she sighed, sinking; then from afar

Flowed the pealing laughter and wassail's sound

( For the dead the world will not stay! ).