 | [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
THE HOMELESS.
As down on the wing of the raven
Or drops on the upas-tree lie,
So darkness and blight are around me
To-night, I can scarcely tell why!
Alone in the populous city!
No hearth for my coming is warm,
And the stars, the sweet stars, are all hidden
On high in the cloud and the storm!
Or drops on the upas-tree lie,
So darkness and blight are around me
To-night, I can scarcely tell why!
Alone in the populous city!
No hearth for my coming is warm,
And the stars, the sweet stars, are all hidden
On high in the cloud and the storm!
The memories of things that are saddest,
The phantoms unbidden that start
From the ashes of hopes that have perished,
Are with me to-night in my heart!
Alas! in this desolate sorrow,
The moments are heavy and long;
And the white-pinioned spirit of Fancy
Is weary, and hushes her song.
The phantoms unbidden that start
From the ashes of hopes that have perished,
Are with me to-night in my heart!
Alas! in this desolate sorrow,
The moments are heavy and long;
And the white-pinioned spirit of Fancy
Is weary, and hushes her song.
One word of the commonest kindness
Could make all around me seem bright,
As birds in the haunts of the summer,
Or lights in a village at night;
But lacking that word, on my spirit
There settles the heaviest gloom,
And I sit with the midnight around me,
And long for the peace of the tomb.
Could make all around me seem bright,
As birds in the haunts of the summer,
Or lights in a village at night;
But lacking that word, on my spirit
There settles the heaviest gloom,
And I sit with the midnight around me,
And long for the peace of the tomb.
| [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |