 | Poems |  |
A LEGEND.
“Hark!”
She sat upright in her bed,
The gold hair from her head
Crisping, coiling, wandering low
O'er her bosom cold as snow.
For the heart in her breast stood still,
And the blood in her veins ran chill,
At the sound she heard in the dark.
She sat upright in her bed,
The gold hair from her head
Crisping, coiling, wandering low
O'er her bosom cold as snow.
For the heart in her breast stood still,
And the blood in her veins ran chill,
At the sound she heard in the dark.
“Hark!”
It sounded like the scream
Of a dreamer in his dream.
Yet her eyes were wide and blue,
Piercing midnight through and through;
Her parted lips were white
With the terror of the night,
And her arms spread stiff and stark.
It sounded like the scream
Of a dreamer in his dream.
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Piercing midnight through and through;
Her parted lips were white
With the terror of the night,
And her arms spread stiff and stark.
“Hark!”
Wakened the mother mild:
“Why dost thou call, my child?
The kindling morn is not yet red,
The night is silent, the winds are dead.
To-morrow thou art a bride:
Sleep, darling, at my side.”
But again she whispered, “Hark!”
Wakened the mother mild:
“Why dost thou call, my child?
The kindling morn is not yet red,
The night is silent, the winds are dead.
To-morrow thou art a bride:
Sleep, darling, at my side.”
But again she whispered, “Hark!”
“Hark!
Hear the slow steps that bring,
Stumbling, some dreadful thing!
Hear the low, hushed voices calling!
Hear the sullen water falling!
Hear! oh, mother, hear!
They are setting down the bier:
And the watch-dogs do not bark.”
Hear the slow steps that bring,
Stumbling, some dreadful thing!
Hear the low, hushed voices calling!
Hear the sullen water falling!
Hear! oh, mother, hear!
They are setting down the bier:
And the watch-dogs do not bark.”
Hark!
The sudden taper burned,
The key in her cold hand turned.
Nothing in the lofty hall,—
Stillness, darkness, over all.
“There is not a creature here,
Nor bearers, nor a bier,
Nor anything but the dark.”
The sudden taper burned,
The key in her cold hand turned.
Nothing in the lofty hall,—
Stillness, darkness, over all.
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Nor bearers, nor a bier,
Nor anything but the dark.”
Hark!
The wedding-bells ring loud,
The wedding-revellers crowd.
Waiting, watching, still she stood
In her bower's white solitude,
Waiting in her bower
For the bridegroom and the hour,
Watching the dial's mark.
The wedding-bells ring loud,
The wedding-revellers crowd.
Waiting, watching, still she stood
In her bower's white solitude,
Waiting in her bower
For the bridegroom and the hour,
Watching the dial's mark.
Hark!
The creeping shadow is there:
He is coming up the stair,—
Coming! Stumbling steps and slow
Up the stately staircase go.
Low, hushed voices,—“Bring him here.
Softly! now set down the bier.”
Dripping water's dropping fall
On the flagstones of the hall,—
It is this she heard in the dark.
The creeping shadow is there:
He is coming up the stair,—
Coming! Stumbling steps and slow
Up the stately staircase go.
Low, hushed voices,—“Bring him here.
Softly! now set down the bier.”
Dripping water's dropping fall
On the flagstones of the hall,—
It is this she heard in the dark.
Hark!
The tolling bells ring low,
And the mourners come and go.
Whiter than the palest bride,
Low she lieth at his side:
For she looked out on the dead,
And her life was smitten and sped.
She will nevermore say, “Hark!”
The tolling bells ring low,
And the mourners come and go.
Whiter than the palest bride,
Low she lieth at his side:
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And her life was smitten and sped.
She will nevermore say, “Hark!”
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