MIST-WING.
Oh my heart was light and airy
Like the mist-wing of the fairy
That I loved;
And I sang with song enchanting,
For the angel I was wanting
And I fain had clasped the maiden
In her mist-winged robes of Aidenn
With my love;
But my eyes were blind with gleamings,
And my hands, bound fast by dreamings,
Would not move.
Then my heart, with horror filling,
Mid-leap froze with awful chilling
Like to death;
For upon her mist-wings thrilling
Did a demon blow his chilling,
Blasting breath.
Where my Mist-Wing fair was ferried
There my hope and heart lie buried,
Turned to stone;
There the dreams of bygones cheery
Drone a dreary, ceaseless, weary
Monotone.
Where my fairy floats forever
O’er the ripples of the river,
Bound in sleep,
There my fondest fancies follow
And with haunting features hollow
Vigils keep.
From a star a light is streaming
In her golden tresses gleaming
Fair as Hope;
Fade the phantoms faster, faster,
From the Morning-star, life’s vaster
She is waking, waking, waking,
And my soul and body breaking
Swift apart.
Joy! my spirit soon shall hold her
And forever more enfold her,
Heart to heart.
THE COMMON LOT.
Choriambic.
Sweet bird, sitting so sad singing your song there on the limb alone,
Why make all the sad world sympathize with every mournful tone?
Ah yes! weep then, my dear, over the loss of the dear one you love:
All hearts weep with you, dear, weep for some heart lured to the land above.
Yet not even the deep river of tears rolls from the heart the stone;
No, naught save the white-robed Angel of Hope born of the soul alone.
O dove! mourning alone, croon to the moon over the one you love;
O soul! Hope is thine own, throned in the white dome of thy home above!