 | Studies from the Antique and Sketches from Nature |  |
150
LOUISE ON THE DOOR-STEP.
Half-past three in the morning!
And no one in the street
But me, on the sheltering door-step
Resting my weary feet;—
Watching the rain-drops patter
And dance where the puddles run,
As bright in the flaring gas-light
As dewdrops in the sun.
And no one in the street
But me, on the sheltering door-step
Resting my weary feet;—
Watching the rain-drops patter
And dance where the puddles run,
As bright in the flaring gas-light
As dewdrops in the sun.
There's a light upon the pavement—
It shines like a magic glass,
And there are faces in it,
That look at me, and pass.
Faces—ah! well remembered
In the happy Long-Ago
When my garb was white as lilies,
And my thoughts as pure as snow.
It shines like a magic glass,
And there are faces in it,
That look at me, and pass.
151
In the happy Long-Ago
When my garb was white as lilies,
And my thoughts as pure as snow.
Faces! ah yes! I see them—
One, two, and three—and four—
That come on the gust of tempests,
And go on the winds that bore.
Changeful and evanescent
They shine 'mid storm and rain,
Till the terror of their beauty
Lies deep upon my brain.
One, two, and three—and four—
That come on the gust of tempests,
And go on the winds that bore.
Changeful and evanescent
They shine 'mid storm and rain,
Till the terror of their beauty
Lies deep upon my brain.
One of them frowns; I know him,—
With his thin long snow-white hair,
Cursing his wretched daughter
That drove him to despair.
And the other, with wakening pity
In her large tear-streaming eyes,
Seems as she yearned toward me,
And whispered “Paradise.”
With his thin long snow-white hair,
Cursing his wretched daughter
That drove him to despair.
And the other, with wakening pity
In her large tear-streaming eyes,
Seems as she yearned toward me,
And whispered “Paradise.”
152
They pass,—they melt in the ripples,
And I shut mine eyes, that burn,
To escape another vision
That follows where'er I turn:—
The face of a false deceiver
That lives and lies; ah me!
Though I see it in the pavement,
Mocking my misery!
And I shut mine eyes, that burn,
To escape another vision
That follows where'er I turn:—
The face of a false deceiver
That lives and lies; ah me!
Though I see it in the pavement,
Mocking my misery!
They are gone!—all three!—quite vanished!
Let no one call them back!
For I've had enough of phantoms,
And my heart is on the rack!
God help me in my sorrow;
But there,—in the wet, cold stone,
Smiling in heavenly beauty,
I see my lost, mine own!
Let no one call them back!
For I've had enough of phantoms,
And my heart is on the rack!
God help me in my sorrow;
But there,—in the wet, cold stone,
Smiling in heavenly beauty,
I see my lost, mine own!
There on the glimmering pavement,
With eyes as blue as morn,
Floats by, the fair-haired darling
Too soon from my bosom torn;
She clasps her tiny fingers—
She calls me sweet and mild,
And says that my God forgives me,
For the sake of my little child.
With eyes as blue as morn,
Floats by, the fair-haired darling
Too soon from my bosom torn;
153
She calls me sweet and mild,
And says that my God forgives me,
For the sake of my little child.
I will go to her grave to-morrow,
And pray that I may die;
And I hope that my God will take me
Ere the days of my youth go by.
For I am old in anguish,
And long to be at rest,
With my little babe beside me,
And the daisies on my breast.
And pray that I may die;
And I hope that my God will take me
Ere the days of my youth go by.
For I am old in anguish,
And long to be at rest,
With my little babe beside me,
And the daisies on my breast.
| Studies from the Antique and Sketches from Nature | |