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|
 | The poems of Madison Cawein |  |
XXXI
Past midnight, gathering from the west,
With rolling rain the storm came on,
And tore and tossed until the dawn,
Like some dark demon of unrest:
The stairways creaked! the chimneys boomed;
I heard the wild leaves blown about
The windy windows; and the shout
Of forests that the storm had doomed.
With rolling rain the storm came on,
And tore and tossed until the dawn,
Like some dark demon of unrest:
The stairways creaked! the chimneys boomed;
I heard the wild leaves blown about
The windy windows; and the shout
Of forests that the storm had doomed.
I listened, and remembered how
On yesterday I went alone
A sunlit path through fields o'ergrown
With sumac brakes, turned crimson now;
Where asters strung blue pearls and white
Beside the goldenrod's soft ruff;
Where thistles, silvery puff on puff,
Danced many a twinkling witch's-light.
On yesterday I went alone
A sunlit path through fields o'ergrown
With sumac brakes, turned crimson now;
Where asters strung blue pearls and white
Beside the goldenrod's soft ruff;
Where thistles, silvery puff on puff,
Danced many a twinkling witch's-light.
Her joy the Autumn uttered so
To skies where gold and azure blent;
Now storm is the embodiment
Of all her utterance of woe:
The two within me so abide,
That of the two my mind partakes,—
As one, who walks asleep, awakes,
Walks on and thinks, “To-night I died.”
To skies where gold and azure blent;
30
Of all her utterance of woe:
The two within me so abide,
That of the two my mind partakes,—
As one, who walks asleep, awakes,
Walks on and thinks, “To-night I died.”
| The poems of Madison Cawein | |