uite dead! All hopeless, my poor Jo was dead!
Yes, all too soon I knew that life had fled!
Oh! not the slightest flutter at his heart;
No warmth to his cold lips could I impart;
I could not bring the breath to my poor mate,
I'd found him; but, ah, God! I'd found too late!
Oh! what I suffered I can never tell,
It seemed to me I tasted then of hell!
Despair came o'er me, I was dazed with grief,
As palsy struck I trembled like a leaf.
Would I go mad? Yes, without thought or aim,
I smoothed Jo's brow and called upon his name;
Strange and unnatural my voice with woe,
And lost at once amid the wreaths of snow!
Should I feel shame that grief did me unman—
That down my furrowed cheeks the hot tears ran?
That night I learned what friendship true can be;
How near a son the lad had been to me.
Before that hour no gray my locks o'er cast,
And after that the white came thick and fast.
'Twas by the wreckage, some ten yards away,
And near the surface that my poor boy lay,
One hand thrust upward, as in mute appeal.
Alas! my frenzied clasp he could not feel!
Upon his other hand each fingernail
Furrowed the flesh, did deep the palm impale.
Oh, it was gruesome! Oft I've seen it so,
Upon the hands of those killed by the snow.
What could I do—when bitter tears and grief
Passed to a dull despair beyond relief?
When I was sure that I all power did lack;
That tears and labor could not bring him back?
Must I make ready for a solemn task—
The end of which I dared not see nor ask?
Dimly, through all the rack of ache and pain,
I knew the truth—Jo could not there remain;
And then the thought upon my brain dawned slow,
That I must take him to the camp below.
Oh! friend, who listens calmly to this tale,
Did it show weakness that my heart should fail?
That I before the coming task did shrink—
Held back as one upon a chasm's brink?
"Not so," you say? I hope in all the sum
Of your life's days such task may never come!
Close by our cabin we had kept a sled,
Thereon awhile poor Jo must find a bed.
Oft he had pulled beside me on the slope—
Brave, honest Jo, when he was filled with hope;
Now he would be the burden it must bear.
Hard pang it gave to go and leave him there;
Lying so rigid, lonely and so still,
He did with fearfulness the wild scene fill!
I seemed to see all nature through a pall,
A sign of death was written over all,—
Life, hope, fate, death; the helplessness of men—
The mystery of all weighed on me then!
Across the sled I laid pine-branches deep,
Placed Jo upon them in his endless sleep;
With his own blankets wrapped the body o'er—
Under their folds he'd dream of love no more—
And when I'd fitting made his bed at last,
With long, stout cords I tightly bound all fast;
Felt one deep surge of pain my breast within,
And, then—my course was ready to begin.
Then downward; downward, in pale light of dawn,
Down the steep slopes and ledges long outdrawn.
Over the snowy hillocks, mighty drifts,
Across ice-bridges o'er the deep-made rifts,
Down, down the hidden trail we knew so well—
Within my ears a sound like passing bell;
My heart like fire, my throbbing brow cold-damp,
As, in the wintry noon, I reached the camp.
Oh, awful hour! My task of tasks came yet,
Ah, God! how could I bear the news to Plet?