 | Leaves of life |  |
164
A CITY CLERK'S CHRISTMAS DREAM.
The office hours were ended
A little while ago,
And friendly and unfriended
Alike must homeward go.
Long since the noontide's high light
Died on the office skylight,
And dreary winter twilight
Was lost in gas-lit glow.
A little while ago,
And friendly and unfriended
Alike must homeward go.
Long since the noontide's high light
Died on the office skylight,
And dreary winter twilight
Was lost in gas-lit glow.
I tread the pavement crowded
With busy city men,
Whose souls dark veils have shrouded,
Woven by ink and pen.
Were but the veils once lifted,
The money-mist back-drifted,
What visions changed and shifted
Would rise before them then!
With busy city men,
Whose souls dark veils have shrouded,
Woven by ink and pen.
Were but the veils once lifted,
The money-mist back-drifted,
What visions changed and shifted
Would rise before them then!
165
For me, my fancy ranges
O'er silent hill and plain;
The noisy pavement changes
Into a country lane,
Where crushed dead leaves are lying,
And day and year are dying,
And winter winds are sighing
Their desolate refrain.
O'er silent hill and plain;
The noisy pavement changes
Into a country lane,
Where crushed dead leaves are lying,
And day and year are dying,
And winter winds are sighing
Their desolate refrain.
Past ghostly elms and beeches,
Past hedgerows gaunt and bare,
My yearning heart outreaches
Through frosty Christmas air
To her, to her, my treasure,
My only prize and pleasure,
Belovèd beyond measure,
And good beyond compare.
Past hedgerows gaunt and bare,
My yearning heart outreaches
Through frosty Christmas air
To her, to her, my treasure,
My only prize and pleasure,
Belovèd beyond measure,
And good beyond compare.
I thread the lanes and meadows,
I know each inch of way;
'Twas here we saw our shadows
Cast by the moon of May.
With red, wet eyes that smarted,
Here at the church we parted,
Each almost broken-hearted,
The night I went away.
I know each inch of way;
'Twas here we saw our shadows
Cast by the moon of May.
166
Here at the church we parted,
Each almost broken-hearted,
The night I went away.
About her gate the roses
No more are sweet and red,
And all the snow discloses
Are rose-thorns brown and dead;
But through her window gleaming
Her lamp's warm glow is streaming—
The star of all my dreaming,
Which here my steps has led.
No more are sweet and red,
And all the snow discloses
Are rose-thorns brown and dead;
But through her window gleaming
Her lamp's warm glow is streaming—
The star of all my dreaming,
Which here my steps has led.
Haste through the gate—go faster,
O feet, if that may be,
And bear your eager master
To where she waits for me;
And haste, O longed-for hour,
Of all my life the flower,
When in her winter bower
Mine eyes my rose shall see!
O feet, if that may be,
And bear your eager master
To where she waits for me;
And haste, O longed-for hour,
Of all my life the flower,
When in her winter bower
Mine eyes my rose shall see!
167
Love, I am here—O vision,
Dead e'er it gained its crown!
But that is Fate's derision,
And this is Camden Town;
And dreams of love's creating
Fly at my latch-key's grating,
And Christmas bills are waiting—
Good-evening, Mrs. Brown.
Dead e'er it gained its crown!
But that is Fate's derision,
And this is Camden Town;
And dreams of love's creating
Fly at my latch-key's grating,
And Christmas bills are waiting—
Good-evening, Mrs. Brown.
| Leaves of life | |