Elegies
Unguessed by her the strange and cheerless bed
Where rests, for ever rests, his weary head;
And nothing of their haunted life she knows,
For whom an awful star, 'twixt wind and wave,
Still hovers o'er a merciless despair,
Still hovers o'er their treasure hidden there,
Their treasure in a never-fathomed grave—
Who dare not look, but feel the ghastly gleam,
While years of silence tell them 'tis no dream—
To whom across the world and waste of sea,
A mute sad Shadow turns its solemn gaze,
Hopeless of home—"Forget me not," It says:
"I am not lost, while Love remembers me."
Where rests, for ever rests, his weary head;
And nothing of their haunted life she knows,
For whom an awful star, 'twixt wind and wave,
Still hovers o'er a merciless despair,
Still hovers o'er their treasure hidden there,
Their treasure in a never-fathomed grave—
Who dare not look, but feel the ghastly gleam,
While years of silence tell them 'tis no dream—
To whom across the world and waste of sea,
A mute sad Shadow turns its solemn gaze,
Hopeless of home—"Forget me not," It says:
"I am not lost, while Love remembers me."
Oh, faithful to the bidding of those eyes!
Oh, faithful to the tender heart of fire!
Love yearns for thee with unextinguished sighs,
But knows that with her death thy memory dies;
And dies with it one sacred sole desire,
To gather up the scattered dust of death,
To charm the long-lost phantom back to light,
And that dear semblance to all time bequeath—
Vain bitter prayer for bitter sweet delight!
In what strange lines of beauty should I draw thee?
In what sad purple dreamshine paint thee true?
How should I make them see who never saw thee?
How should I make them know who never knew?
Oh, faithful to the tender heart of fire!
Love yearns for thee with unextinguished sighs,
But knows that with her death thy memory dies;
And dies with it one sacred sole desire,
To gather up the scattered dust of death,
To charm the long-lost phantom back to light,
And that dear semblance to all time bequeath—
Vain bitter prayer for bitter sweet delight!
In what strange lines of beauty should I draw thee?
In what sad purple dreamshine paint thee true?
How should I make them see who never saw thee?
How should I make them know who never knew?
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