IN DREAMS.
I.
When they carried away my darling
To a kingdom beyond the sky,
I knew what the angels intended,
So I stifled the tear and the sigh,
But I prayed she might send me a message
Of love from the realms of the blest,
As to me a whole life of repining
Was the cost of her Heaven of rest.
II.
Yes: I prayed she might send me a message;
One word from her mansion of bliss;
One ray from her features angelic:
From her sweet lips the saintliest kiss;
And I question the wind, as it wanders
As though from the regions above,
But it whispers in sadness, and brings me
From the absent no message of love.
III.
At night I grow weary with watching
The stars, as I sadly surmise
Which of all those bright jewels resplendent
Borrow light from my lost one's eyes:
Then I sleep—and a vision approaches;
And again all my own she would seem:
But on waking my Love has departed,
And my heart aches to find it a dream.
IV.
Oh, I prayed she might send me a message;
But nought the sweet missive will bring:
The breath of the morning, the sunlight,
The carol of birds on the wing,
Come to gladden my heart with their gladness;
But joyless and tuneless each seems;
And the only sad joy that is left me
Is to live with my dearest in dreams.
"MEWN COF ANWYL." (a)
The above words, wrought in imperishable flowers, were placed on the coffin of the late Mr. John Johnes, of Dolaucothy, at the time of his interment at Cayo, by his youngest daughter, to whom the following elegiac stanzas are respectfully inscribed.
I.
"Mewn cof anwyl."
So sings the lorn and lonely nightingale,
Sighing in sombre thicket all day long,
Weaving its throbbing heartstrings into song
For absent mate, with sorrowing unavail.
And every warble seems to say—"Alone!"
While every pause brings musical reply:
Sad Philomel! Each sweet responsive sigh
Is but the dreamy echo of its own.
II.
"Mewn cof anwyl."
So sings the West wind through the darkling eve,
In spirit-wanderings up and down the wold,
Each mournful sorrow at its heart untold,
Sighing in secret—as the angels grieve,
"Bring back my love!" sobs the bereaved wind;
And sleeping flow'rets waken at the sound,
Shedding their dewy tears upon the ground:
"She seeks," they whisper, "who shall never find!"
III.
"Mewn cof anwyl."
So sings all night the never-resting sea;
And stars look down with tender, loving eyes;
The air is filled with saddening memories
Of what was once—but ne'er again may be.
"Here lie the lost!" the ocean seems to moan;
"I yearn to clasp them to my throbbing heart
"In fond embrace: The lost—myself a part!
So near—so near—and yet I mourn alone!"
IV.
"Mewn cof anwyl."
As roses, crusht and dead, in silence leave
Their precious heritage of perfume rare,
So the good name our dear departed bear
Reflects in cheering light on those who grieve;
And memory, brooding o'er the love thus left,
In tender fancy crowns the dream with tears,
Till, as the hue that on bright rain appears,
Peace comes to comfort lonely hearts bereft.
(a) In loving memory.