 | Poems by Henry Septimus Sutton |  |
129
VIII. CONCLUSION.
The deep voice ceased. I lifted up my head.Had I been sleeping? Was the vision fled?
The sharp and sudden silence seem'd to make
The Loneliness upon her couch to wake,
And half rise on her arm, and cold, serene,
Majestic, distant, like a conscious queen,
Silently, calmly, gaze me in the face.
Evening with dews had overspread the place
Almost as gently as the sweet wild rose
Her pilgrimage from bud to flower goes.
The distant town across the river grey
Was strengthening its glimmering display
Of invitation, adding ray to ray.
Homeward, in silent thought, I went my way.
| Poems by Henry Septimus Sutton | |