A LAST ‘GOOD-NIGHT.’

Love, I see thee lowly kneeling,

Claspèd hands and drooping head,

While the moonbeams pale are stealing

Sadly round my dying bed.

Dearest, hush thy bitter weeping;

Lay thy tearful cheek to mine,

While the stars, their death-watch keeping,

Softly through the lattice shine.

Through the trees, low winds are sighing,

And my hand, so worn and white,

On thy clustering hair is lying.

Love, my only love, good-night!

Ah! I hear thy broken sobbing.

Faint and low, thy voice hath grown;

And I feel thy fond heart throbbing,

Oh, how wildly, ’gainst mine own!

Dear, my spirit still delaying,

Loves to hover near thee now,

Like the moonbeams fondly straying

O’er thy pallid cheek and brow.

Yes, my soul, to share thy sorrow,

Pauses in its heavenward flight,

And will comfort thee to-morrow.

Love, my dearest love, good-night!

Now, for one sweet moment only,

Fold me closely to thy breast.

When thy life seems dark and lonely,

Oh, remember I am blest!

Though thy voice with grief be broken,

Smile once more, and call me fair.

Darling, as my last love-token,

Take this little lock of hair.

Feeling these, thy last caresses,

Tears must dim my failing sight.

Kiss once more my wandering tresses,

Then a long, a last good-night!

Shades of death are round me closing;

Tears and shadows hide thy face;

Still I fear not, thus reposing,

In thy faithful, fond embrace.

Though thou lingerest broken-hearted,

All thy thoughts to me shall soar;

We shall seem but to be parted;

I’ll be near thee evermore.

Brightly on my soul’s awaking,

See, yon gleam of heavenly light!

Now, behold the morn is breaking.

Love, my faithful love, good-night!

Fanny Forrester.

Printed and Published by W. & R. Chambers, 47 Paternoster Row, London, and 339 High Street, Edinburgh.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] See article ‘The Isle of May and its Birds,’ in Chambers’s Journal for September 22, 1883.