26 ONE BY ONE. But one by one, we come To the Gate of the heavenly home: That all the powers of Heaven That to each the voice of the Father With songs, on the shining street; To the glory none may know. B. M. THE TEN VIRGINS. HAD a vision of the night. It seem'd There was a long red tract of barren land, Blockt in by black hills, where a half moor dream'd Of morn, and whiten'd. Drifts of dry brown sand, This way and that, were heapt below and flats Of water :--glaring shallows, where strange bats Came and went, and moths flicker'd. To the right, A dusty road that crept along the waste 28 THE TEN VIRGINS. And a slow music, such as sometimes kings Then I could perceive A glory pouring through an open door, They wore white vestments, all of them. They were Waiting they stood without that lighted hall; Then I beheld A shadow in the doorway. And one came He, turning, took them by the hand, And led them each up the white stairway, and THE TEN VIRGINS. 29 At that moment the moon dipp'd Behind a rag of purple vapour, ript Off a great cloud, some dead wind, ere it spent Then, in the dark, swell'd suddenly across Her blue lips The moon drew up out of a cloud. Again I had a vision on that midnight plain. Five women and the beauty of despair Upon their faces: locks of wild wet hair, O'er their bare breasts, that seem'd too filed with trouble To feel the damp crawl of the midnight dews That trickled down them. One was bent half double, 30 THE TEN VIRGINS. A dismay'd heap, that hung o'er the last spark The dull light redder, and the dry wick flew A wild light on her flusht cheeks; a wild white Fearfully fair. The lamp dropp'd. From my sight She fell into the dark. Beside her, sat One without motion: and her stern face flat Against the dark sky. One as still as death, Hollow'd her hands about her lamp, for fear The light grew dim and blear: And she, too, slowly darken'd in her place. |