 | [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
THE GOOD ANGEL.
Like a prophetess of sorrow
Dying day foretells the night,
And adown the eastern hill-tops
Floats and falls the deep'ning light;
Floats and falls the light so golden
From the full, uprisen moon,
And the little birds are nestled
In the bosom of young June.
Dying day foretells the night,
And adown the eastern hill-tops
Floats and falls the deep'ning light;
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From the full, uprisen moon,
And the little birds are nestled
In the bosom of young June.
I am sitting where so often
I have sat in summers gone,
Down the dim and solemn future,
Fixedly, gazing, on and on.
I can see sweet gleams of sunshine
Drifting through a valley wide,
Where a thousand hopes aforetime—
Ventures of the heart have died.
I have sat in summers gone,
Down the dim and solemn future,
Fixedly, gazing, on and on.
I can see sweet gleams of sunshine
Drifting through a valley wide,
Where a thousand hopes aforetime—
Ventures of the heart have died.
Then a phantom hand of darkness
Comes between the moon and I,
And the stars, like pallid spirits,
Wander, aimless, through the sky.
And the dreary winds about me,
Sigh and moan in under breath,
As, sometimes, unwary watchers
Hold their prophecies of death.
Comes between the moon and I,
And the stars, like pallid spirits,
Wander, aimless, through the sky.
And the dreary winds about me,
Sigh and moan in under breath,
As, sometimes, unwary watchers
Hold their prophecies of death.
Rise not like a far-off planet,
Time of beauty vanished long,
Come not back, lost voice, to haunt me
Like a half-remembered song.
And if down the long, long future,
No sweet Eden smiles for me,
Save one from the past, good angel,
This is all I ask of thee!
Time of beauty vanished long,
Come not back, lost voice, to haunt me
Like a half-remembered song.
And if down the long, long future,
No sweet Eden smiles for me,
Save one from the past, good angel,
This is all I ask of thee!
| [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |