The beating of his neighbor’s heart.
And each one, with a sad surmise,
Gazed wistfully in his fellow’s eyes,
And turned, and doubtfully bowed his head,
Despairing at the lore he read.
Each seemed to wonder why that hour
Beheld them in that ancient bower,
Where tree, and leaf, and grass, and stone,
Spoke audibly of ages gone.
Where shining, ghostly, through the trees,