From, a Nrgv York Pafer.
{"newspaper_name": "The Wilmingtonian, and Delaware register.", "edition": "01", "page": "p1", "byline": ""}
When pain and hatred hemmed me round,
In life's young years,
One faithful hand at least found
To wipe my tears;
One soothing voice whose gentle sound
flushed my wild fears,
One heart to mine forever bound,
In life's young years.
But now am alone indeed,
Hope disappears;
1 smile, but there is none to heed,
sigh,-none hears.
wither like a youthful weed


But shed no tears,
For feel shall no solace need
In a few short years.


A. BROOKE