190
LOST IN THE MIST.
The very flicker of the fire
Upon the patterned ground:
O that I were the shepherd-dog
That guards their happy door!
Or even the silly household eat
That basks upon the floor!
Upon the patterned ground:
O that I were the shepherd-dog
That guards their happy door!
Or even the silly household eat
That basks upon the floor!
O that I sat one minute's space
Where I have sat so long!
O that I heard one little word
Sweeter than angel's song!
A pause—and then the table fills,
The harmless mirth brims o'er;
While I—O can it be God's will?—
I die, outside the door.
Where I have sat so long!
O that I heard one little word
Sweeter than angel's song!
A pause—and then the table fills,
The harmless mirth brims o'er;
While I—O can it be God's will?—
I die, outside the door.
My body fails—my desperate soul
Struggles before it go:
The bleak air 's full of voices wild,
But not the voice I know;
Dim shapes come wandering through the dark:
With mocking, curious stares,
Faces long strange peer glimmering by—
But not one face of theirs.
Struggles before it go:
The bleak air 's full of voices wild,
But not the voice I know;
Dim shapes come wandering through the dark:
With mocking, curious stares,
Faces long strange peer glimmering by—
But not one face of theirs.
Lost, lost, and such a little way
From that dear sheltering door!
Lost, lost, out of the loving arms
Left empty evermore!
From that dear sheltering door!
Lost, lost, out of the loving arms
Left empty evermore!
