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 | Poems by Frederick Goddard Tuckerman |  |
180
[X. An upper chamber in a darkened house]
An upper chamber in a darkened house,Where, ere his footsteps reached ripe manhood's brink,
Terror and anguish were his cup to drink,
I cannot rid the thought, nor hold it close:
But dimly dream upon that man alone;
Now though the autumn clouds most softly pass,
The cricket chides beneath the doorstep stone,
And greener than the season grows the grass,
Nor can I drop my lids, nor shade my brows,
But there he stands beside the lifted sash;
And, with a swooning of the heart, I think
Where the black shingles slope to meet the boughs
And, shattered on the roof like smallest snows—
The tiny petals of the mountain-ash.
| Poems by Frederick Goddard Tuckerman | |