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POEMS.
Grow heavy," Eva said; "they swim with sleep;I cannot walk for utter weariness,And I must rest a moment on this bank,But let it not be long." As thus she spoke,In half-formed words, she sank on the smooth snow,With closing lids. Her guide composed the robeAbout her limbs, and said, "A pleasant spotIs this to slumber in; on such a couchOft have I slept away the winter night,And had the sweetest dreams." So Eva slept,But slept in death; for when the power of frostLocks up the motions of the living frame,The victim passes to the realm of DeathThrough the dim porch of Sleep. The little guide,Watching beside her, saw the hues of lifeFade from the fair smooth brow and rounded check,
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