 | The poems and sonnets of Louise Chandler Moulton |  |
143
AT MIDNIGHT.
The room is cold and dark to-night:
The fire is low,—
Why come you, you who love the light,
To mock me so?
The fire is low,—
Why come you, you who love the light,
To mock me so?
I pray you leave me now alone;
You worked your will,
And turned my heart to frozen stone,—
Why haunt me still?
You worked your will,
And turned my heart to frozen stone,—
Why haunt me still?
I got me to this empty place;
I shut the door,—
Yet through the dark I see your face
Just as of yore.
I shut the door,—
Yet through the dark I see your face
Just as of yore.
The old smile curves your lips to-night;
Your deep eyes glow
With that old gleam that made them bright
So long ago.
Your deep eyes glow
With that old gleam that made them bright
So long ago.
I listen: do I hear your tone
The silence thrill?
Why come you? I would be alone;
Why vex me still?
The silence thrill?
Why come you? I would be alone;
Why vex me still?
144
What! Would you that we re-embrace,—
We two once more?
Are these your tears that wet my face
Just as before?
We two once more?
Are these your tears that wet my face
Just as before?
You left to seek some new delight,
Yet your tears flow;
What sorrow brings you back to-night?
Shall I not know?
Yet your tears flow;
What sorrow brings you back to-night?
Shall I not know?
I will not let you grieve alone,—
The night is chill,—
Though love is dead and hope has flown,
Pity lives still.
The night is chill,—
Though love is dead and hope has flown,
Pity lives still.
How silent is the empty space!
Dreamed I once more?
Henceforth against your haunting face
I bar the door.
Dreamed I once more?
Henceforth against your haunting face
I bar the door.
| The poems and sonnets of Louise Chandler Moulton | |