 | Chips, fragments and vestiges by Gail Hamilton |  |
ALONE
Moaning, sobbing, howling, shrieking
Sweeps the night-wind by,
Fearful wailings, fierce contendings
In the wrathful sky;
But within the fire-light, reckless
Of the wreathing snow,
Flitteth, danceth, leapeth, setteth
All the room aglow.
Sweeps the night-wind by,
Fearful wailings, fierce contendings
In the wrathful sky;
But within the fire-light, reckless
Of the wreathing snow,
Flitteth, danceth, leapeth, setteth
All the room aglow.
Yet in vain the airy prancing
Of the rosy light,
Vain to keep the brooding shadows
Off my heart to-night,
Heeding not at all the beauty
Which it loveth best,
But the writhings of the storm-god
In his wild unrest.
Of the rosy light,
Vain to keep the brooding shadows
Off my heart to-night,
Heeding not at all the beauty
Which it loveth best,
But the writhings of the storm-god
In his wild unrest.
98
So my soul takes up the wailing,
And my eyes are dimmed,
Thinking of the hopes that flourished
When Life's cup was brimmed,
Thinking of the dew-wet garlands
That entwined my brow,
Thinking of the desolation
That enshrouds it now.
And my eyes are dimmed,
Thinking of the hopes that flourished
When Life's cup was brimmed,
Thinking of the dew-wet garlands
That entwined my brow,
Thinking of the desolation
That enshrouds it now.
Oh, the bliss! the thrill—the madness
Of my early dreaming!
Oh, the brilliance of that sunlight
O'er my pathway streaming!
Oh, the weary, hopeless aching!
Oh, the dull hard sorrow,
Shrouding the relentless Present,
Shadowing the morrow.
Of my early dreaming!
Oh, the brilliance of that sunlight
O'er my pathway streaming!
Oh, the weary, hopeless aching!
Oh, the dull hard sorrow,
Shrouding the relentless Present,
Shadowing the morrow.
In yon village church-yard resteth
Many a weary sleeper;
But my heart outnumbereth all,
And its graves are deeper.
They shall yet with life immortal
Up to glory soar,
Glide my buried through Death's portal
Never, never more.
Many a weary sleeper;
But my heart outnumbereth all,
And its graves are deeper.
They shall yet with life immortal
Up to glory soar,
Glide my buried through Death's portal
Never, never more.
99
And on, still on, the great world goeth,
Sparing not my pain,
Treading on my quivering heart-strings
With a calm disdain,
Crushing all my fairy fancies,
Scorning my appealings,
Mocking at my agony
For its stern revealings.
And is this life? O God in heaven,
Hear my earnest prayer,
In the darkness lost, bewildered,
Groping everywhere.
Sparing not my pain,
Treading on my quivering heart-strings
With a calm disdain,
Crushing all my fairy fancies,
Scorning my appealings,
Mocking at my agony
For its stern revealings.
And is this life? O God in heaven,
Hear my earnest prayer,
In the darkness lost, bewildered,
Groping everywhere.
Dec. 23, 1854.
| Chips, fragments and vestiges by Gail Hamilton | |