Saturday Verse: "The Fear of Madness" - Lucretia Davidson

THE FEAR OF MADNESS                                                                                       Written While Confined to Her Bed During Her Last Illness

There is a something which I dread,
    It is a dark, a fearful thing;
It steals along with withering tread,
    Or sweeps on wild destruction's wing. 

That thought comes o'er me in the hour
    Of grief, of sickness, or of sadness;
'Tis not the dread of death—' tis more,
    It is the dread of madness. 

O! May these throbbing pulses pause,
    Forgetful of their feverish course;
May this hot brain, which, burning, glows
    With all its fiery whirlpool's force, 

Be cold, and motionless, and still,
    A tenant of its lowly bed,
But let not dark delirium steal—
.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .
                                       [Unfinished]

- Lucretia Davidson                                                                       

Read about her here.