LOST IN THE MIST.
189
O door, so close yet so far off;
O mist that nears and nears!I
What, shall I faint in sight of home?
Blinded—but not with tears—
'T is but the mist, the cruel mist,
Which chills this heart of mine:
These eyes, too weak to see that light—
It has not ceased to shine.
O mist that nears and nears!I
What, shall I faint in sight of home?
Blinded—but not with tears—
'T is but the mist, the cruel mist,
Which chills this heart of mine:
These eyes, too weak to see that light—
It has not ceased to shine.
A little further, further yet:
The white mist crawls and crawls;
It hems me round, it shuts me in
Its great sepulchral walls:
No earth—no sky—no path—no light-
A silence like the tomb:
O me,it is too soon to die—
And I was going home!
The white mist crawls and crawls;
It hems me round, it shuts me in
Its great sepulchral walls:
No earth—no sky—no path—no light-
A silence like the tomb:
O me,it is too soon to die—
And I was going home!
A little further, further yet:
My limbs are young,—my heart—
O heart, it is not only life
That feels it hard to part:
Poor lips, slow freezing into calm,
Numbed hands that helpless fall,
And, a mile off, warm lips, fond hands,
Waiting to welcome all!
My limbs are young,—my heart—
O heart, it is not only life
That feels it hard to part:
Poor lips, slow freezing into calm,
Numbed hands that helpless fall,
And, a mile off, warm lips, fond hands,
Waiting to welcome all!
I see the pictures in the room,
The figures moving round,
The figures moving round,
