THE SHADOWED PACE. 



'Once I was loved for my innocent grace, 

 Flattered and sought for the charm of my face. 

 Father, mother, sisters, all, 

 God, and myself, I have lost in my fall. 

 The veriest wretch that goes shivering by 

 Will take a wide sweep lest I wander too nigh, 

 For of all that is on or about me, I know, 

 There is nothing that's pure but the beautiful snow. 

 How strange it should be that this beautiful snow 

 Should fall on a sinner with nowhere to go ! 

 How strange it would be, when the night comes again, 

 If the snow and the ice struck my desperate brain, 

 Fainting, freezing, dying alone !" 



