The Death Of Crazy Jane Poem by Robert Anderson

'Twas at the hour when night retreating,
Bade the screech--owl seek his nest;
Gloomy vapours slow were fleeting,
Morning glimmer'd in the east:
On the heath, her wild woes telling,
To the winds, and beating rain,
Cold, unshelter'd, far from dwelling;
Trembling sat poor Crazy Jane.

``Ah!'' she cried, ``ye scenes around me,
Witnesses of Henry's art;
Witnesses he faithful found me,
How he broke this tender heart:
Go, ye wild winds, try to move him!
Bid him heal this heart again;
Did he know how much I love him,
He would pity Crazy Jane.

``Henry comes; I see him yonder,
Dart like lightning o'er the heath!
Ah! no! no! my senses wander--
Since he comes not, welcome death!''
Fainting, on the earth she laid her;
Soon, in pity to her pain,
Death, where love had first betray'd her,
Gave relief to Crazy Jane.