THE DARKENED HOUSE. ONE year ago this dreary night, This house, that in my way Checks the swift pulses of delight, Was cordial glad, and gay. The household angels tended there And by the hardier plant grew fair A lovely lily-flower. The skies rained sunshine on its head, It throve in summer air: "How straight and sound!" the father said; The mother said, "How fair!" One little year is gathering up Its glories to depart; The skies have left one marble drop Within the lily's heart. For growth and bloom no more avails The Seasons' changing breath: Fixed in sad constancy, it feels The sculpture-touch of Death. But from its breast let golden rays, Linking the sorrow-clouded days With dawning paradise. THE OLD MAN'S WALK. INTO the sadness of the winter night I bear my heart: Shunning the crowded streets, the glaring light, I walk apart. With trembling feet and head astound I go, I must return unto that house of woe; I cannot yet. Unhappy words compel me from the hearth Should send me reckless o'er the rolling earth, With bosom cleft. O Stranger! ask not why I stray abroad Thus out of time. Mine eye has not the furtive glance of fraud, Deep Night, within thy gloomy catafalque And, while thy candles light my funeral walk, Let lightsome spirits that outwatch thy reign, Shed golden balsam for the sons of pain "Ave," I hear the pitying angels say; AT A CORNER. HERE should I meet you, here only, recalling What did that look portend? dark was its meaning, Faded in tears the swift gleam of delight; Ask the deep thoughts of eternity's screening, Ask the wide stars in the bosom of night. Like some winged Seraphim, never descending, That for a moment unveils to our view: Love flashed a promise that Life never knew. |