 | The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer |  |
345
WHISPERINGS OF CONSCIENCE.
[_]
[“No more on me will fall the hues of sunset or the shades of evening—no more the sweet coolness of the twilight air—no more the vesper song of birds. Farewell, ye shady seats, and ye rich and hanging boughs—turf altars of the heart, and Druid groves of love! The dew of heaven and the breath of the fragrant earth may restore freshness to the flower, but they have no balm for the withered heart!”]
There are times when, kindred meeting,
Stern and gloomy I appear,
And each fond and joyous greeting
Falls unnoted on my ear.
Stern and gloomy I appear,
And each fond and joyous greeting
Falls unnoted on my ear.
In their songs I find no sweetness,
In their looks no sunshine warm,
And I turn away with loathing
From each fair and well-known form;
In their looks no sunshine warm,
And I turn away with loathing
From each fair and well-known form;
For my thoughts, attuned to sadness,
Dwell on dreams for ever flown,
And I leave the hall of gladness
For my chamber cold and lone!
Dwell on dreams for ever flown,
And I leave the hall of gladness
For my chamber cold and lone!
Ghosts of precious moments wasted
Haunt the temple of my soul,
And deep voices of upbraiding
In mine ear alarum toll.
Haunt the temple of my soul,
And deep voices of upbraiding
In mine ear alarum toll.
Then I wildly think how altered
Would have been my earthly lot
If my foot had never faltered,
If my heart had fainted not!
Would have been my earthly lot
If my foot had never faltered,
If my heart had fainted not!
If, when counsel most I needed,
With my passions uncontrolled,
Warning whispers had been heeded
From loved lips now pale and cold.
With my passions uncontrolled,
Warning whispers had been heeded
From loved lips now pale and cold.
346
On the sea of life benighted,
I have sought with careless oar
Traitor-fires by evil lighted
On the wreck-encumbered shore;
I have sought with careless oar
Traitor-fires by evil lighted
On the wreck-encumbered shore;
And though ruin frowned before me,
And my bark was torn and tossed,
While the bitter surf washed o'er me,
And black demons shouted “LOST!”
And my bark was torn and tossed,
While the bitter surf washed o'er me,
And black demons shouted “LOST!”
Yet nor wind nor wave I minded,
But, with Conscience hushed and scared,
And an eye by Pleasure blinded,
To Destruction's portal steered.
But, with Conscience hushed and scared,
And an eye by Pleasure blinded,
To Destruction's portal steered.
Oh! I am to madness driven
While the past I thus recall,
Knowing that the wrath of heaven
On the guilty head must fall!
While the past I thus recall,
Knowing that the wrath of heaven
On the guilty head must fall!
| The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer | |