THE WATERS OF LETHE.

———

BY N. C. BROOKS, A. M.

———

Written for one in dejection.

“Oh, for a cup of the Waters of Lethe.” Letter of a Friend.

Come, Peri, from the well,

Where cooling waters steep

The soul that’s bound by memory’s spell

In soft oblivion’s sleep.

The lethean power diffuse;

I could not wake again:

Pour o’er my heart its balmy dews,

And on my burning brain.

The plighted hopes of youth—

The perished joys of years—

Affections withered—slighted truth—

The sunlight dashed with tears—

The cloud, the storm, the strife,

I would recall no more,

And all the bitterness of life;

The lethean goblet pour!

Remembered tones of old—

Of friends in quiet sleep,

Make other eyes and tones seem cold,

And bid the lonely weep;

Come then, Oblivion, seal

All memory as I drink;

This tortured heart would cease to feel,

This fevered brain to think.

Baltimore, November, 1840.