---

With woe it's told

How Mercy's fair bestowment

Crumbles neath the

Winter Shadow's wrath

The Reaper's call

"Submit to grave enchantments

For every day is crowned

With a setting sun"

To her doom

Countenance alight

Flush as blazing rubies

Clenched in pallid snow

With every breath

Death's baneful jaw

Tears another morsel

Right from her ailing soul

The townspeople

Consult cach other

As George Brown's daughter

Meets her doom

"What shall be done

If the reckoning on this family

Leads to the threshold

Of our very own doors?"