 | The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith |  |
DREAMING
I dream beside that silent sea
Which yet has mystic voices low
That whisper potent words to me
From the dim, haunted long ago;
And as the waves, with measured beat,
Drift up the slow wrack to my feet,
Faces gaze from it, sad and sweet.
Which yet has mystic voices low
That whisper potent words to me
From the dim, haunted long ago;
And as the waves, with measured beat,
Drift up the slow wrack to my feet,
Faces gaze from it, sad and sweet.
So come they, as the stars appear
Even while you gaze on the blank night;
For ere you wis, lo! far and near
The dusk is all agleam with light;
A mighty host, uncalled, they come,
And without sound of trump or drum,
But yet their silence is not dumb.
Even while you gaze on the blank night;
For ere you wis, lo! far and near
The dusk is all agleam with light;
A mighty host, uncalled, they come,
And without sound of trump or drum,
But yet their silence is not dumb.
They speak to me of hopes and fears
That yet can make my bosom thrill,
As o'er the weary waste of years
The dead hands reach, and touch me still:
For that old Past still lives to me;
Its phantom faces still I see
More life-like than the living be.
That yet can make my bosom thrill,
As o'er the weary waste of years
The dead hands reach, and touch me still:
For that old Past still lives to me;
Its phantom faces still I see
More life-like than the living be.
| The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith | |