 | Art and Fashion |  |
109
A DAILY SCENE.
A dim light in the window,
Deep straw around the gate,
And silence lingering as in pain
Some closing breath to wait.
Deep straw around the gate,
And silence lingering as in pain
Some closing breath to wait.
Is it a mother that departs?
A sire, whose course is o'er?
A child, mid tears and breaking hearts,
That speeds to death's mute shore?
A sire, whose course is o'er?
A child, mid tears and breaking hearts,
That speeds to death's mute shore?
Doth friend lose friend? Some comrade old
That early boyhood knew—
When like a lamb from Nature's fold
Life drank the morning dew.
That early boyhood knew—
When like a lamb from Nature's fold
Life drank the morning dew.
We know not. This alone we know;
There is no home but tells
Some sorrow in this world below
Of graves and funeral bells.
There is no home but tells
Some sorrow in this world below
Of graves and funeral bells.
110
Some flower beloved that bloomed in vain,
Some joy that could not last;
Some hope that darken'd into pain;
Some grief that shrouds the past.
Some joy that could not last;
Some hope that darken'd into pain;
Some grief that shrouds the past.
Another sun hath bathed the lawn
In light, and golden air;
The dead hath found another dawn,
A dawn which angels share.
In light, and golden air;
The dead hath found another dawn,
A dawn which angels share.
Around the house a sadness steals,
A weight that pains the brow;
There is no fear of rolling wheels;
No need of caution now.
A weight that pains the brow;
There is no fear of rolling wheels;
No need of caution now.
No need of blind-drawn windows,
Nor deep straw, borne aside,
To tell us in that darken'd home
Some heart hath loved and died.
Nor deep straw, borne aside,
To tell us in that darken'd home
Some heart hath loved and died.
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