Excerpt from Verses From a Vagrant Muse: Joseph Dana Miller
Wells were drilled and a marvelous yield Incited the reckless spirit of gain, The thirst of avarice; nights revealed The uneasy heart and the aching brain. Of lives crushed out in that mad pursuit Of piteous moans, and prayers unheard. And lives of women trod underfoot, The voice of rumor says never a word.
Yonder, over that wooded cove, A young girl sprang in her wild despair, Onto the rocks, with a cry that clove The heavy, humid, unwilling air; Dead leaves fell pattering to the ground, The sky was calm, and the air came cool, When in the morning. Her face was found, Framed dead and whitely above the pool.
On Saturday nights, the tavern's din Is frightful as noises that come from hell And wild-faced women go reeling in; Outside are the stars and the dreamy dell.
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