 | Three hours ; or, the vigil of love : and other poems |  |
6.
“Better, ay, he'll soon be well—Saviour-God, I bless thy name!”
Silvery sweet her accents fell,—
From her hearth the blessing came.
Then she rose and gently raised
The pine-knots on the hearth that blazed;
Beneath her touch they burn so bright
Every shadow seems to flee:—
The bed's blue damask canopy,
And a tall, carved chair of ebony,
Stiff as knight in armor dight,
Were strongly painted in the light;—
And strangely mingling with them, stood,
Like humble friends, the bench of wood,
And table, shaped with axe and saw—
On which a silver flagon shone,—
19
The Lady's gaze is turned alone
On a rude shelf filled with books;
Or, as listening for his moan,
On her sleeping boy she looks.
| Three hours ; or, the vigil of love : and other poems | |