Sometimes when western lamps burn low,
I feel thee near, tho thou art far,
Doth parting heal I long to know,
Or distance deeper brand the scar.
Sometimes when chill the winds that blow,
Thy spirit calms the atmosphere,
A zephyr heartstrings’ lyric bow,
Warm strains of melody I hear.
Sometimes when in the evening glow,
My soul seems interlocked with thine,
While artful shadows come and go,
I pause to quaff a drink divine.
ALONE
’Tis midnight!
One lone star stands a fiery sentinel,
Whose eagle eye portrayeth silence well,
Keeping watch!
’Tis midnight!
The screechowl’s plaintive scream pierces the gloom,
Alone goes she forth from her cavern tomb,
Making moan!
’Tis midnight!
Wrapt in the mourning garment of despair,
One thot “Alone” enshrouds the mystic air,
Unsought!
’Tis midnight!
A doleful bell peals forth its dismal dirge,
Alone—dim spectres tread that haunted verge
Death’s own.