Page:Poems Proctor.djvu/141

And still we talked. O'er cloudy bars
Orion bore his pomp of stars;
Within, the wood-fire fainter glowed;
Weird on the wall the shadows showed;
Till, in the east, a pallor born
Told midnight melting into morn

Then nearer to his side I prest,
Afraid to lose my angel-guest;—
A glance, a sigh—we did not speak—
Fond kisses on my brow and cheek,
A sudden sense of rapture flown,
And in the dawn I sat alone!
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'T is true his rest this many a year
Has made the village church-yard dear;
Tis true his stone is graven fair,
"Here lies, remote from mortal care;"—
I cannot tell how both may be,
But well I know he talked with me!

And oft, when other fires are low,
I sit within that midnight glow;
My head upon his shoulder leant,
His tender glances downward bent,
And win the dream to sweet delay
Till stars and shadows yield to day.