 | Poems |  |
[Oft in the silent watches of the night]
Oft in the silent watches of the night
Doth memory light the lamp of other days,
Whose lustrous beams restore the past to light,
And startles with the clearness of its rays!
Doth memory light the lamp of other days,
Whose lustrous beams restore the past to light,
And startles with the clearness of its rays!
Ah, at such times how well we recollect
Scenes around which Time's dusky wreath has twined!
Scenes which the bustle of the day reject,
And never once intrude upon the mind.
Scenes around which Time's dusky wreath has twined!
Scenes which the bustle of the day reject,
And never once intrude upon the mind.
Childhood in all its beauty re-appears—
Beauty long since on fleeting pinions fled;
Friends, boon companions of our early years,
Now scattered far, or with the nameless dead.
Beauty long since on fleeting pinions fled;
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Now scattered far, or with the nameless dead.
I do bethink me of an ancient man
Whose solemn aspect struck my infant eye;
With superstitious reverence did I scan
His antiquated form that drooped to die.
Whose solemn aspect struck my infant eye;
With superstitious reverence did I scan
His antiquated form that drooped to die.
And well I recollect the fatal night
When the old man resigned himself to death;
The geese were noisy in their awkward flight
And Notus blew with warm and misty breath.
When the old man resigned himself to death;
The geese were noisy in their awkward flight
And Notus blew with warm and misty breath.
I was a young and ghost-believing child;
And all that awful night I lay awake;
My mind was filled with apprehensions wild,
And ominously did the windows shake!
And all that awful night I lay awake;
My mind was filled with apprehensions wild,
And ominously did the windows shake!
Time's dreamy interval of years cannot
From off my mind its memory efface,
Tho' more important things are quite forgot,
And many truths have sadly gone apace!
From off my mind its memory efface,
Tho' more important things are quite forgot,
And many truths have sadly gone apace!
And even now at evening, when I hear
The storm-foretelling geese fly calling shrill,
Backwards I see in bas-relief appear
Distinct the old man and his death-bed still.
The storm-foretelling geese fly calling shrill,
Backwards I see in bas-relief appear
Distinct the old man and his death-bed still.
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