 | Camera obscura |  |
42
THE HOMEWARD LANE.
“Sehst du sehr geblässlich aus?
Seyst getrost! du bist zu Haus.”
Heine.
Seyst getrost! du bist zu Haus.”
Heine.
My soul within me yearned
For home; not yet appeared
The father's house in sight:
I saw no kindled light
In gleaming window-pane,
No forms arrayed in white
Came forth, yet was I cheered
At heart: I knew I neared
My home, and kept aright
The way.
For home; not yet appeared
The father's house in sight:
I saw no kindled light
In gleaming window-pane,
No forms arrayed in white
Came forth, yet was I cheered
At heart: I knew I neared
My home, and kept aright
The way.
My footsteps turned
Adown a well-known lane,
Lone, quiet; on each side
A grassy margin wide,
And hedgerows freshened to the deepened stain
Left by warm summer rain.
O'er all a sparkle wet;
An odour dank and cool
From Balsam poplars set
Within the hedge, and yet
A sunset flash from many a tiny pool.
Adown a well-known lane,
43
A grassy margin wide,
And hedgerows freshened to the deepened stain
Left by warm summer rain.
O'er all a sparkle wet;
An odour dank and cool
From Balsam poplars set
Within the hedge, and yet
A sunset flash from many a tiny pool.
Then saw I on a gate
Two men in garments plain
That leant, as in the summer evenings late
Men lean; of common things
And themes, to dwellers in the country dear,
If husbandman or kings,
They spake, nor ceased their talk as I drew near;
But with a quiet smile
One open held the gate;
The other spake, “For thee, I said, long while
Here would I stand and wait.”
But when I would have turned within, I saw
A sandy heath forlorn
That stretched, whereon an aged woman, bent
With care and toil outworn,
Stooped down to pluck a small white rose, that grew
As if it lived but with its leaves to strew
The thin light soil, nor seemed, sun-fed, the dew
To need, beset with many a grieving thorn;
But when she, turning, lifted up her head
I looked upon the face
Of one long loved by me and with the dead
Long numbered, there no trace
Of age or pain I read,
But in her deep-set eye
Dwelt untold extasy,
And in her smile was bliss,
And rapture in her kiss,
And heaven in her embrace.
Two men in garments plain
That leant, as in the summer evenings late
Men lean; of common things
And themes, to dwellers in the country dear,
If husbandman or kings,
They spake, nor ceased their talk as I drew near;
But with a quiet smile
One open held the gate;
The other spake, “For thee, I said, long while
Here would I stand and wait.”
44
A sandy heath forlorn
That stretched, whereon an aged woman, bent
With care and toil outworn,
Stooped down to pluck a small white rose, that grew
As if it lived but with its leaves to strew
The thin light soil, nor seemed, sun-fed, the dew
To need, beset with many a grieving thorn;
But when she, turning, lifted up her head
I looked upon the face
Of one long loved by me and with the dead
Long numbered, there no trace
Of age or pain I read,
But in her deep-set eye
Dwelt untold extasy,
And in her smile was bliss,
And rapture in her kiss,
And heaven in her embrace.
| Camera obscura | |