Poems (Edwards)/Oblivion
OBLIVION.
There is a stream, a dark still stream, That wanders slowly on,That hides beneath its voiceless. wave The memories that are gone;That covers in its watery-shroud The sorrows we have known,And stills the voices we have loved, With its low muffled moan.
Yet o'er that dark and solemn tide, Fond memory oft doth gleam,And recollections lift themselves, Like shadows, from that stream;A moment's space they linger there, A dim and misty train,Then hide themselves, and Lethe's wave Rolls over them again.
O! there are memories, that the waves Of Lethe cannot hide,Sweet memories, that float above That still and sullen tide;Like watch-fires gleaming through the past, Like sunlight through the storm,They throw a garb of holy light Around each imaged form.
And there are memories, dark and stern, That flit above that stream,And through the misty past we see Their glances on us gleam;Like phantoms rising from their shrouds, With noiseless steps and slow,They glide before our swimming sight On dark oblivion's shore.