"The morning sun stole through the window-blinds
And fell upon my face and wakened me,
And I lay musing--thinking of Pauline.
Yes, she should know the depths of all my heart--
The love I bore her all those lonely years;
The hope that held me steadfast to my toil,
And feel the higher and the holier love
Her precious gift had wakened in my soul.
Yea, I would bless her for that precious gift--
I had not known its treasures but for her,
And O for that would I forgive her all,
And bless the hand that smote me to the soul.
That would be comfort to me all my days,
And if there came a bitter time to her,
'Twould pain her less to know that I forgave.
"A hasty rapping at my chamber-door;
In came my school-boy friend whose guest I was,
And said:
'Come, Paul, the town is all ablaze!
A sad--a strange--a marvelous suicide!
Pauline, who was to be a bride to-day,
Was missed at dawn and after sunrise found--
Traced by her robe and bonnet on the bridge,
Whence she had thrown herself and made an end--'
"And he went on, but I could hear no more;
It fell upon me like a flash from heaven.
As one with sudden terror dumb, I turned
And in my pillow buried up my face.
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