Miami Woods : a golden wedding and other poems

Last night, in the deep mid watches,
As I sat alone in my room,
A Form stood suddenly by me,
That at first seem'd part of the gloom,—
But anon, by the few, faint embers,
Distinct all its outlines grew,
And I saw that the gloom of my chamber,
And the gloom of the Form, were two.

II.

Ere long the defined proportions
Of a gray old man stood there,
Looking out from his beard of silver,
And his thin, white, flowing hair.
His face, in its whole expression,
Was beautiful and benign,
As he leant his staff in the corner,
And took a seat by mine.

III.

Then the gloom in my chamber vanish'd;
And the light,—it so did seem,—

262

Came out from his shadowy vestments,
In many a flash and stream.
And soon, through the thin, pale ashes,
Appear'd a tortuous flame;
And the characters which it pictured,
Were the letters of a name.

IV.

And that name was simply—Wisdom:
But why or whence it came,
I learnt not from the ashes—
I learnt not from the flame.
But the old man entertain'd me
With a story that was new;
And in its clear unwindings
Perhaps may lie the clew:—

263

VI.

I know no more about it,
Than what I hear unfold:
Thus the Greybeard sought my chamber—
This the story that he told;
But I've often thought, Isola,
If the tales told you and me
Were more of them like this one,
How much better it would be.

University of Virginia Library

A Wonderful Story.

I.

II.

III.

IV.

VI.