AN GAOḊAL.
29
WE MET, 'TWAS IN A CROWD
By Thomas Hayes Bayley
We met, 'twas in a crowd,
And I thought he would shun me;
He came, I could not breathe,
For his eyes were upon me.
He spoke, his words were cold,
And his smile was unaltered;
I knew how much he felt
For his deep-toned voice faltered.
I wore my bridal robe
And I rivalled its whiteness!
Bright gems were in my hair,
And I hated their brightness!
He called me by my name —
As the bride of another —
Oh ! thou hast been the cause
Of this anguish my mother!
And once again we met,
And a fair girl was near him;
He smiled and whispered low,
As I once used to hear him;
She leant upon his arm —
Once 'twas mine, and mine only;
I went, for I deserved
To feel wretched and lonely.
And she will be his bride!
At the altar he will her
that love that was too pure
For a heartless deceiver.
The world may think me gay
For my feelings I smother
Oh ! thou hast been the cause
Of this anguish my mother !
Having freed the Cubans, if the
United States be consistent in her
moral, philanthropic protestations,
she will free the Irish next. This
is easily done when England has
France and Russia on hands, and
we could then annex Canada, and
have America for the Americans.
