84
POEMS.
I have lingered in the gloaming
But I never heard a sound,
Save those poor tired feet a-roaming
Lonely o'er the garden ground.
But I never heard a sound,
Save those poor tired feet a-roaming
Lonely o'er the garden ground.
All unearthly seems the stillness
Brooding over every thing,
Like a place where heavy sickness
Hangs a dark and sable wing!
Brooding over every thing,
Like a place where heavy sickness
Hangs a dark and sable wing!
Fascination leads me thither,
For a spell about is cast
Round me as I wander hither
Haunted by a shadowy past.
For a spell about is cast
Round me as I wander hither
Haunted by a shadowy past.
But I light not on the lady
Stricken sorely unto death,
In that garden still and shady,
Standing with suspended breath.
Stricken sorely unto death,
In that garden still and shady,
Standing with suspended breath.
"Never see her? 'Tis a story,
And a myth," I hear you say.
Not so, friends; that house so hoary
Holds the truth of what I say:
Where the entrance gate is closed
As if Death in Life reposed!
And a myth," I hear you say.
Not so, friends; that house so hoary
Holds the truth of what I say:
Where the entrance gate is closed
As if Death in Life reposed!
THE ANGEL OF HOPE.
"Hope is the third blossom of the flower of Love, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness."
I HEARD a footstep in the night,
A spirit footstep low and fair,
A spirit footstep low and fair,
