25 APRIL 1891, Page 17

LOSS.

THE pathway of my life, since thou art gone, Seems like a dusty and exposed high-road Whose upward-stretching weary length is sowed With rough, uneven places. The bright sun Streams pitilessly down; shade there is none.

Bewildered, dazed, instinctively I turn Thy help to claim. Ali have I yet to learn, What all men know,—that I must walk alone P And though I am a woman in my years, Whom others turn to for the help I seek, Still is my troubled heart full of vague fears And desolate distress ; sobs from me break, As from some child, with sense of d rear defeat, Left wandering in an unknown public street.