Alabama, 19 13. 



I sometimes deem'd that it might be 

 My brother's soul come down to me, 

 But then at last away it flew, 

 And then 'twas mortal — well I knew, 

 For he would never thus have flown, 

 And left me twice so doubly lone, — 

 Lone — as the corse within the shroud, 

 Lone — as a solitary cloud, 



A single cloud on a sunny day, 

 While all the rest of heaven is clear, 

 A frown upon the atmosphere, 

 That hath no business to appear 



When skies are blue, and earth is gay. 



— Prisoner of Chillon. 



