 | The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan |  |
. . . What voice is it she hears across the storm,
The haggard Waif who stands with drip ping form
Shivering beneath the lamps of the dark street?
With slant moist beams upon the Rain's black walls
The dreary gaslight falls,
And all around the wings o' the Tempest beat!
O hark! O hark!
The voice calls clear i' the dark—
She hears—she moans—and moaning wanders on;
A mist before her eyes,
A stone in her heart, she flies
Into the rainy darkness, and is gone!
The haggard Waif who stands with drip ping form
Shivering beneath the lamps of the dark street?
With slant moist beams upon the Rain's black walls
The dreary gaslight falls,
And all around the wings o' the Tempest beat!
O hark! O hark!
The voice calls clear i' the dark—
She hears—she moans—and moaning wanders on;
A mist before her eyes,
A stone in her heart, she flies
Into the rainy darkness, and is gone!
| The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan | |