University of Virginia Library

A WAIL.

The Day goeth down red darkling,
The moaning waves dash out the light,
And there is not a star of hope sparkling,
On the threshold of my night.

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The wild winds of Autumn go wailing
Up the valley and over the hill,
Like yearning Ghosts round the world sailing,
In search of the old love still.
A fathomless sea is rolling
O'er the wreck of the bravest bark;
And my pain-muffled heart is tolling
Its dumb-peal down in the dark.
The waves of a mighty sorrow
Have whelméd the pearl of my life:
And there cometh to me no morrow
Shall solace this desolate strife.
Gone are the last faint flashes,
Set is the sun of my years;
And over a few poor ashes
I sit in my darkness and tears.