The Hermit’s Farewell.
FAREWELL, that sad and bitter word
It stirs my soul to-night,
As I sit crouching in my cave
Above the faggot’s light;
Strange, ghostly figures dance and flit
Along the cold, damp walls;
The black snake glares his drowsy eyes,
And from his dungeon crawls.
The toad croaks near my humble fire,
Is loth to hop away,
And knows that ne’er again for him
Will I in ambush lay;
The bats flit idly to and fro,
The mice romp through my cell,
And e’en the wind that moans without
Repeats that word—farewell.
I move, and think ’tis some weird dream
Then mutter “’tis my brain;”
For here around my throbbing brow
Seems clamped a heavy chain,
And like a prisoner doomed to die
To-morrow at the stake,
I count the hours as they fly,
And dread the morning’s break.
For friends will come to lead me forth,
Through frescoed hall and room,
To homes where kindred ties await;
I fear the hermit’s doom.
They’ve tempted me—I fain would rest
Here on the dungeon mould,
Than dream on beds where curtains swing
With sunbeams in each fold.
For beasts and birds and creeping things
Have owned me as their guest,
When man would turn me from his door
With cruel word or jest;
And as I served my scanty meal,
In supplicating lays,
The cricket and the katydid
Would join my evening praise.
God pitied me, my loneliness
He made a sweet content;
I found companions in the stars
That from the heavens bent;
His flowers were friends, the golden rod
Smiled in its yellow hood,
A sentinel about my door
The purple thistle stood.
But look! the morning’s amber hue
Steals on the Easter skies,
Farewell! farewell! when Death has closed
These dim and longing eyes,
In peace to slumber here entombed,
Will be the boon I crave,
And those who spurned The Hermit’s home
Shall shun The Hermit’s grave.
