 | Studies of Sensation and Event |  |
22
A DEATH-SOUND.
Oh! never sent Italian summer, a fairer, brighter day,
Than when amid the wildwood he led young Rose away;
Down from heaven's curving roof of all unshaded blue
Sank the sunshine o'er the hills, and strong the forest through;—
All the leaves did droop, and all the birds did dream;
They passed the silvery fishes, slumbering on the stream;
'Twas the fearfully bright noonhour, and restless life had gained
Its most unsheltered pinnacle, and failed rapture pained;
Than when amid the wildwood he led young Rose away;
Down from heaven's curving roof of all unshaded blue
Sank the sunshine o'er the hills, and strong the forest through;—
All the leaves did droop, and all the birds did dream;
They passed the silvery fishes, slumbering on the stream;
'Twas the fearfully bright noonhour, and restless life had gained
Its most unsheltered pinnacle, and failed rapture pained;
For the press of the sunshine held the world;
And with never a breeze or a sound,
The golden air glowed radiant,
While as ever the earth rushed round.
And with never a breeze or a sound,
The golden air glowed radiant,
While as ever the earth rushed round.
23
Down all the happy morning the birds did flit and sing;
But now across the silence there waved not any wing;
They were sitting 'neath the trees, he felt her soft hand come,—
It clasped his brow and swerved it towards her bosom home;
He sank upon his pillow, resigned to think that this,
If bliss might be on earth, was sure earth's happiest bliss:
Then heard he through her frame the busy life works ply,
But the sound was not of life; and he knew that she must die:
But now across the silence there waved not any wing;
They were sitting 'neath the trees, he felt her soft hand come,—
It clasped his brow and swerved it towards her bosom home;
He sank upon his pillow, resigned to think that this,
If bliss might be on earth, was sure earth's happiest bliss:
Then heard he through her frame the busy life works ply,
But the sound was not of life; and he knew that she must die:
And the press of the sunshine held the world;
And with never a breeze or a sound,
The golden air glowed radiant,
While as ever the earth rushed round.
And with never a breeze or a sound,
The golden air glowed radiant,
While as ever the earth rushed round.
“Why start you so?” she whispered; no words found he to say;
“You are pale, you are chilly, love?”—again her lips did pray;
He urged his ear into her bosom,—fast the lifeworks ply,
But the sound was not of life,—he was sure that she must die;
The life within his veins did press at every pore,
He found no speech, and warm he felt her tear his cheek drop o'er,—
One tear, and then another;—Oh, it seemed death dared not be,
And he laughed, “I am well, I am well, I ever grow well with thee:”
“You are pale, you are chilly, love?”—again her lips did pray;
He urged his ear into her bosom,—fast the lifeworks ply,
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The life within his veins did press at every pore,
He found no speech, and warm he felt her tear his cheek drop o'er,—
One tear, and then another;—Oh, it seemed death dared not be,
And he laughed, “I am well, I am well, I ever grow well with thee:”
And the press of the sunshine held the world;
And with never a breeze or a sound,
The golden air glowed radiant,
While as ever the earth rushed round.
And with never a breeze or a sound,
The golden air glowed radiant,
While as ever the earth rushed round.
Now, distant wedding bells rang out; he saw her blushing cheek,—
Of their coming bridal morning she thought that he might speak:—
'Twas then his brain sank broken; Oh, seek no more to know;—
The worms will make their feast upon her coffined brow;—
When she died in his arms, “forget, forget,” she said,
“How I loved thee, love thee dying,” then her last look fed,
And died against his face; Oh! is there reason, why
Haunts me that summer morning, when he found that she would die;
Of their coming bridal morning she thought that he might speak:—
'Twas then his brain sank broken; Oh, seek no more to know;—
The worms will make their feast upon her coffined brow;—
When she died in his arms, “forget, forget,” she said,
“How I loved thee, love thee dying,” then her last look fed,
25
Haunts me that summer morning, when he found that she would die;
When the press of the sunshine held the world;
And with never a breeze or a sound,
The golden air glowed radiant,
While as ever the earth rushed round.
And with never a breeze or a sound,
The golden air glowed radiant,
While as ever the earth rushed round.
| Studies of Sensation and Event | |