 | Shamrocks |  |
115
DREAMING.
Once, in a dream-hour's ghostly glimmering light,
One set her face for her love's dwelling-place;
With flying feet, and heart that beat apace,
The wan dream-soul went out into the night;
Adown pale paths she passed in breathless flight,
Nor noted how the dear, familiar ways
Were stranger grown in this sad, strange moon's rays:
Lo! and at last her love's home came in sight.
One set her face for her love's dwelling-place;
With flying feet, and heart that beat apace,
The wan dream-soul went out into the night;
Adown pale paths she passed in breathless flight,
Nor noted how the dear, familiar ways
Were stranger grown in this sad, strange moon's rays:
Lo! and at last her love's home came in sight.
Yea, at his door she knocked and cried till morn,
And moaned around his house, and knocked again,
Calling on love's dear name; but love was dead;
Empty was all, and desolate, and forlorn,
Lost like her heart; and still the weary rain,
And the wind's voices wailing overhead.
And moaned around his house, and knocked again,
Calling on love's dear name; but love was dead;
Empty was all, and desolate, and forlorn,
Lost like her heart; and still the weary rain,
And the wind's voices wailing overhead.
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