Slow, solemn cranes, with drowsy eyes, The turning tide runs slowly out; I hear their boat-songs through the night; White clouds are drifting out to sea; From far-off lands, like tired things, Far off I see the dim coast wall, A long, low reach of palm and pine, And far beyond, and farther yet, Thank God, so far the loud world seems That seem its memories and regrets When one awakens; all its rout, Here, care ebbs out with every tide, And peace comes in upon the flood; On that fair land, on that still sea, And all the thoughts they wake in me Once more I stand upon thy shore- Here let me dream. AT THE LAST A little upper chamber, The wide and waiting casement shows, A wicket in the Night! The leaves without are trembling Upon the autumn trees; A solemn, fearful secret Is whispered in the breeze. The clock is silent in its place; A shadow hovers on its face; Strange shadows course the wall, Where, as the dim light flares or fades, They run, and rise, and fall. The curtain folds creep to and fro, Touched by the fitful air; Pale watchers stand about a bed, And you are lying there, Dumb, white and still, while over you The mask-faced doctor leans. What means it all? Ah, God alone, He knoweth all it means. The tide is out; the moon is set; You hear a voice of weeping; You try to break the silence, And move your lips in vain; You cannot see; you cannot speak; You cannot move a hand; There is so much that you would sayBut none may understand. -Across the outer silence A night-bird sudden calls; Strange echoes wake and answer Draw their curtains down upon them, Close the poor, pale lips together, More may pass the seal set there. A dreary, dreadful chamber, A glimmer of pale roses: A Presence-felt, but seen not; The candle, dimly flaring, Seems swept by viewless wings; The leaves without are trembling Upon the ancient trees; A solemn, fearful secret Is whispered in the breeze. Would God that we could learn it; A life has drifted from us; The Ages know no more; Or to the dust from whence it came, Lies there the way to Heaven Infinite life, and light? Ah, that one ray might reach us here, To gild this utter night! TO-DAY AND YESTERDAY Fly fast, O happy hours! we say; Flit on, O happy hours! we say; There's music in your flying feet, Come back, come back, O happy hours! Come back, O lost, lost hours! we say; So swift! so sweet! SOUTH CAROLINA, 1876 Naked and desolate she stands, Her name a byword in all lands, Her scepter wrested from her hands. -She smiles, a queen despite their bands! Her crown is lying at her feet, The spoiler's work is near complete. They've wasted all her royal dower; Her daughters cling about her form, |