The adopted daughter and other tales |
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27. | THE SHADOW-DEATH. |
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The adopted daughter | ||
246
THE SHADOW-DEATH.
BY VIRGINIA A. SWOOPE.
Dancing lightly in the moonlight
Sweeps a shadow o'er the wall,
Never ceasing, never resting,
Falls that shadow, grim and tall.
Never ceasing, never waiting,
Dancing ever day and night;
Falling in the homes of sorrow
Like an angel's wing of light.
Never ceasing, never resting,
Dancing round us one and all;
By the blue sea's dashing wavelet,—
In the cot and lordly hall;
Falling now on steel-clad warrior,
Then on maiden frail and fair—
On the eagle's lofty nurslings—
On the wild beast in his lair;
On the violet where it lieth
By the blue lake's star-lit wave—
On the sturdy red-brow'd hunter
Dashing from the mist-lined cave.
Where the pirate's young bride leaneth
Through the casement, by the sea,
Watching in night's lonely stillness,
For her lover, wild and free.
Where the breeze bears gently homeward
Some lone fisher's plaintive song;
And where childhood sleepeth calmly,
Guarded by an angel throng.
Like the winged wind of midnight,
Softer than an angel's call,
Is the Shadow-Death, that falleth
Darkly o'er the homes of all.
Sweeps a shadow o'er the wall,
Never ceasing, never resting,
Falls that shadow, grim and tall.
Never ceasing, never waiting,
Dancing ever day and night;
Falling in the homes of sorrow
Like an angel's wing of light.
Never ceasing, never resting,
Dancing round us one and all;
By the blue sea's dashing wavelet,—
In the cot and lordly hall;
Falling now on steel-clad warrior,
Then on maiden frail and fair—
On the eagle's lofty nurslings—
On the wild beast in his lair;
On the violet where it lieth
By the blue lake's star-lit wave—
On the sturdy red-brow'd hunter
Dashing from the mist-lined cave.
Where the pirate's young bride leaneth
Through the casement, by the sea,
Watching in night's lonely stillness,
For her lover, wild and free.
Where the breeze bears gently homeward
Some lone fisher's plaintive song;
And where childhood sleepeth calmly,
Guarded by an angel throng.
Like the winged wind of midnight,
Softer than an angel's call,
Is the Shadow-Death, that falleth
Darkly o'er the homes of all.
The adopted daughter | ||