 | Rhymes of travel, ballads and poems |  |
140
EVIL.
O Power of Evil, whatsoe'er thou art,What if I shudder with a freezing dread,
When, heralded by no far-coming tread,
I feel thy sudden shadow on my heart?
What if my being, with a shrinking start,
Cries through the darkness, when thy mocking laugh
Readest each broken Hope's sad epitaph?
Though in their ruin thou hast borne thy part,
They slumber yet in consecrated ground,
Watered by tears my better angel sheds,
And when my soul beneath their cypress treads,
Deem not thy fierce, dark whispers there may sound:
The Good which blessed me, in the very grave
Dug by thy hands, is mighty still to save!
| Rhymes of travel, ballads and poems | |