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 | The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer |  |
A REMEMBRANCE.
Within a sad, deserted house
I passed an hour of gloom;
Behind the wainscot crawled the mouse—
The bat was in the room:
What heard I in that dreary house?
The sweet, low spirit-voice of one
Called early to the tomb.
I passed an hour of gloom;
Behind the wainscot crawled the mouse—
The bat was in the room:
What heard I in that dreary house?
The sweet, low spirit-voice of one
Called early to the tomb.
That voice was thine, my daughter dear!
It came my heart to thrill,
And, like an ocean-shell, mine ear
Retains the music still;
She said: “Be joyous, father dear!
Unclouded morn will break at last
Upon a night of ill.”
It came my heart to thrill,
And, like an ocean-shell, mine ear
Retains the music still;
She said: “Be joyous, father dear!
Unclouded morn will break at last
Upon a night of ill.”
And I will rend the bonds that hold
In thrall my higher powers,
As broke the mighty man of old
Green withes, like chains of flowers;
Though hearts that should have loved are cold,
And eyes flash scorn that should have beamed
Like sunshine after showers.
In thrall my higher powers,
As broke the mighty man of old
Green withes, like chains of flowers;
Though hearts that should have loved are cold,
And eyes flash scorn that should have beamed
Like sunshine after showers.
| The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer | |