AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH.
The following singular poem by Mr. Tilton, written at the time of his troubles (says the New York Herald), has a singular interest now ; aiK makmaduke’s musings. (By Theodore Tilton.) I won a noble fame ; But, with a sudden frown, The people snatched my crown, And in the mire trod down My lofty name. I bore a bounteous purse, And beggars by the way Then blessed me day by day ; But I, grown poor as they, Have now their curse. I gained what men called friends ; But now their love is hate, And I have learned too late How mated minds unmate, And friendship ends. X clasped a woman’s breast, As if her heart I know. Or fancied, would be true ; Who proved—alas, she too! False like the rest. I now am all bereft— As when some tower doth fall. With battlements and wall And gate and bridge and all — And nothing left. But I account it worth All pangs of fair hopes crossed— All loves and honors lost— To gain the heavens at cost Of losing earth. So, lest I be inclined To render ill for ill— Henceforth in me instil, O God, a sweet good-will To all mankind.
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Bibliographic details
New Zealand Times, Volume XXIX, Issue 4241, 23 October 1874, Page 3
Word Count
203AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. New Zealand Times, Volume XXIX, Issue 4241, 23 October 1874, Page 3
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