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!).