Denzil place a story in verse. By Violet Fane [i.e. M. M. Lamb] |
 |
|
| I. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| III. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| II. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
 | Denzil place |  |
Thus Constance quitted silent Denzil Place,
To face that stern relentless outer world
Of which she knew so little. Never more
For her those gates unfasten'd;—ne'er again
Fell her light footstep on the polish'd floors,
Nor were the dim old oaken panell'd walls
Flatter'd again by that sweet flitting shade
Caressing them. The old house stands and waits,
And all its windows look like straining eyes
Watching for Constance,—for the fairy thing
That suddenly became identified
With its moth-eaten records of the Past.
Ah, never more! those windows wait in vain,
Thro' all the changing years she will not come,
No more her sunny head and wistful eyes
Will grace the empty open window-frames!
She came and went, as vanishes a dream,
And the old house is waiting her in vain.
To face that stern relentless outer world
Of which she knew so little. Never more
For her those gates unfasten'd;—ne'er again
Fell her light footstep on the polish'd floors,
Nor were the dim old oaken panell'd walls
Flatter'd again by that sweet flitting shade
Caressing them. The old house stands and waits,
And all its windows look like straining eyes
Watching for Constance,—for the fairy thing
That suddenly became identified
With its moth-eaten records of the Past.
Ah, never more! those windows wait in vain,
Thro' all the changing years she will not come,
No more her sunny head and wistful eyes
Will grace the empty open window-frames!
She came and went, as vanishes a dream,
And the old house is waiting her in vain.
| Denzil place | |