Select Poetry.

Hawke's Bay Weekly Times, Volume 1, Issue 18, 20 May 1867, Page 115

Select Poetry.

• From Tfiildow cnrtalnlesa and'liijtli, , ’■»’ •-' There gleamed a sickly, 1 yellow light; .On.other .casements darkness fell,. [ * But that' ahbne aU thb dxeaiy night. f vjrone t°,ithe earman’s.eheeryshout. ■- vrihe^flulQlotreadofhunyingfeet, .jSWia;little yeUqw light .went out. Beside.itsat.ahaggardman, ,: if Yet.ltwas not time hal made hiinie>; - Rather,,eachy ear that o’er him ran, , ,Had left'him a decade of woe. . 1 ' 'He lived a month in. eveiy’bight— ‘ . A monthofanguish and despair; , While eojntehing|on his brow did write A look that youth should never wear. , He often leffrthe dismal house/ ! And walked away, with downcast eye#, : As though he feared to see a curse ' '""Writ on the sunny summer skies. Yet stem and grave as he appeared, The little children in the street . 'Smiled in his face, and never feared Tp sport and gambol at his feet. Yet when those cherub looks were raised, Half shyly, flashing fun and play, Scarcely upon their smiles he gazed, But sighed, and turned his face away; As though he feared lest childhood’s eye Should chance to penetrate the veil Of a dark story, and descry The dismal secret of his tale. ‘ ‘ But on one gusty winter eve, When wind was high; and Bnow was deep. Just such a night as makes one grieve . For those who have no home to^keep— I drew aside ihy curtain’s fold, Half shuddering in the frosty air) The Stars were shining, clear and cold, But that dim lamp—it was not there; And fears within my spirit stirred, l.felt my brow grow cold and whit®, As though a ghostly voice 1 heard Upon the silence of the night. , . I sought my bed—sleep closedrmine eye#— I woke iu fear—my brow was damp— I know not what I dreamed, hut I Had dreamed about that little lamp! I rose, .and from my window saw The house of that mysterious light; Ball was the morning, dim and raw, - Soiling the-snow so pure last night. People" were gathered in the street, In hushed, mysterious tones they spoke, "Then watchmen came, with heavy feet. And, passing swiftly mid the folk, -Bntered the house, and in its gloom, • They found they needs must have a light. I saw them pass'from room to room To that which once was lit by night, And long and long they lingered there (But what they found I could not say) ; Then out they came with looks of care, And sent the people all away. "What had they found?—they found him dead That lonely watcher in the night, lying alone upon his "bed, And near him his extinguished light. But though his face was dark and lean, It wore no more its look of care, A smile was o’er its sorrow seen. The cold hand held a lock of hair— A single lock of golden hair—bong, silken, culred, as women’3 are ■ Its owner—was she false as fair? ’ Or was she dead; or gone afar ? We can but guess that shining tress Was some sweet relic of the past A comfort or a bitterness That soothed, or stung him to thb last. ' And that -was all that man could learn But yet it gave me sudden pain * To-know that lamp would never hum On that high wiudow-sill again ; And from my memory ne’er will go The tarnished hearse, the rusty pall The gapiug crowd, and all the woe ’ Of that unfollowed funeral. I. Ftvie.