University of Virginia Library

In the pause of the storm, I could hear
Her sweet-toned voice, so wild and clear!
That—suddenly—I'd turn around—
Believing she was near!—
And then!—I'd shed the bitter tear—
As if I'd come too late!—and found—
That—disappointed—she had gone;
As if she had—that moment flown
And left me—left me!—all alone—
And then again I'd hear the tone
Of her own lute—as 'twere to cheer—
The pilgrim on his journey here:
Like the dew of heaven—a pearly light—
That falls where the touch of the storm hath been,
In the silent night—
Refreshing the air—and stirring the breeze
With the flourishing green
Of branching trees:
And often—when the sun went down—
In battle—blood—and flame—
As, o'er against the sky I stood,
Away, by yonder blueish wood,
Whence, often, on the winds she came,
I've heard her—gently—sing my name—
And seen two shadows—faintly thrown,
Upon the water—far below,
And I—great God!—was all alone!
And one of them had wings—and stooping
Amid her lovely hair,
Whose vapoury flow,
Was all around—seemed weeping, where
The other—seemed in madness, drooping—
That other!—who was he?—he strove
In vain—in vain!—to touch her hand—
As one that—overwhelmed with love—
Within the awful presence of
The creature of his heart doth stand!
And often—often have I heard—
Two voices mingling in the wood—
Chiding and weeping—and they seemed—
Like some of which I've often dreamed—
I know not where—I know not why—
I love but one—and she is gone—
Yet still I often hear the tone—
Of children—in the air—and sky,
As they were drowning—and a third—
Such as I've heard in solitude—
Like some sweet-toned pronouncing bird,
Would say my name aloud,
As if some lovely infant there,
Encradled in a golden cloud—
Where all was yellowish vapour—dim—
Were faintly calling me to him!