 | The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith |  |
LOST
Sick, sick at heart and in despair,
Through crowded street, and quiet square
I seek my lost Love everywhere.
Through crowded street, and quiet square
I seek my lost Love everywhere.
A while, with shamed and broken mind,
I hid from her, content to find
Her shadow nightly on the blind;
I hid from her, content to find
Her shadow nightly on the blind;
Content to hear her even-song
Go up with tremulous note or strong,
Go up the angels' hymns among,
Go up with tremulous note or strong,
Go up the angels' hymns among,
Meanwhile I stood beneath the lamp,
And fretted on the pavement damp
At the slow Watchman's patient tramp,
And fretted on the pavement damp
At the slow Watchman's patient tramp,
Or noted where the shadows flit
On quaint old gables, or a bit
Of carving by the moonbeams lit.
On quaint old gables, or a bit
Of carving by the moonbeams lit.
252
The shame of failure on me lay,
And led me on a lonely way,
Hoping for dawn of a new day.
And led me on a lonely way,
Hoping for dawn of a new day.
Yet now the day has come, and lo!
It is like morning creeping slow
Into a blinded house of woe.
It is like morning creeping slow
Into a blinded house of woe.
Gone! and she has not left a trace!
And while I haunt the silent place,
Oh! I am haunted by her face.
And while I haunt the silent place,
Oh! I am haunted by her face.
O fool and coward! not to see
That love, which would have trusted thee,
Must die if it distrusted be!
That love, which would have trusted thee,
Must die if it distrusted be!
| The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith | |