 | Romance and revery |  |
86
THE MISANTHROPE.
His lonely dwelling long has stood
Deep in the calm heart of a wood.
Deep in the calm heart of a wood.
'T is said that blighted love has curled
His lip in hate toward all the world.
His lip in hate toward all the world.
O'er gloomy books he loves to brood,
Exultant in his solitude.
Exultant in his solitude.
Stately of stature, pale of face,
With downward look he loathes his race.
With downward look he loathes his race.
But night and morning past his door
An engine speeds with savage roar.
An engine speeds with savage roar.
He shudders when he hears it come,
Rushing across the stillness dumb!
Rushing across the stillness dumb!
He does not hate its noisy clash,
Nor yet by night its crimson flash.
Nor yet by night its crimson flash.
87
He only hates the bitter thought
Of human hearts thus near him brought;
Of human hearts thus near him brought;
Glad hearts, perchance upon their way
To others passionate as they;
To others passionate as they;
Live hearts that seem to mock his own,
Once throbbing warm, now dead as stone!
Once throbbing warm, now dead as stone!
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