The bard, and minor poems By John Walker Ord ... Collected and edited by John Lodge |
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| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. | VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
 | II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
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 | The bard, and minor poems |  |
VI.
“I'll tell thee all: Long, long ago,
Ere dreams were thought, my father died;
And in one year—Oh, memory wild!—
His wife lay buried by his side!
Long years have fled; but yet I see
The pale, cold face, that smiled in death,—
The eyes so bright, now dark to me,—
The warbling cadence of her breath—
Those tones so clear and free.
I treasure well the voice of prayer!
The green grave-side all wet with rain;
The heavenly voice that fill'd the air,
And slowly spake amid my pain
Of anguish and despair.
Ere dreams were thought, my father died;
And in one year—Oh, memory wild!—
His wife lay buried by his side!
Long years have fled; but yet I see
The pale, cold face, that smiled in death,—
The eyes so bright, now dark to me,—
The warbling cadence of her breath—
Those tones so clear and free.
I treasure well the voice of prayer!
The green grave-side all wet with rain;
The heavenly voice that fill'd the air,
And slowly spake amid my pain
Of anguish and despair.
“And one sad night—when sorrow's sleep
Wrought fever in this weary head,
And, all in vain, I strove to weep
In memory of the dead—
A spirit came from heaven above:
Her head all clothed in glory bright,—
Her eye serene with heavenly light,—
The lambent light of love.
Her face so rapturously shone,
That, when at first the floating shade
Came radiant o'er my drooping head,
I was with fear undone.”
Wrought fever in this weary head,
And, all in vain, I strove to weep
In memory of the dead—
A spirit came from heaven above:
Her head all clothed in glory bright,—
Her eye serene with heavenly light,—
The lambent light of love.
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That, when at first the floating shade
Came radiant o'er my drooping head,
I was with fear undone.”
| The bard, and minor poems | |