125

DEAD.

I. Something lies in the room Over against my own; The windows are lit with a ghastly bloom Of candles, burning alone,–– Untrimmed, and all aflare In the ghastly silence there! II. People go by the door, Tiptoe, holding their breath, And hush the talk that they held before, Lest they should waken Death, That is awake all night There in the candlelight! III. The cat upon the stairs Watches with flamy eye For the sleepy one who shall unawares Let her go stealing by. 126 She softly, softly purrs, And claws at the banisters. IV. The bird from out its dream Breaks with a sudden song, That stabs the sense like a sudden scream; The hound the whole night long Howls to the moonless sky, So far, and starry, and high.

127

THE DOUBT.

She sits beside the low window, In the pleasant evening-time, With her face turned to the sunset, Reading a book of rhyme. And the wine-light of the sunset, Stolen into the dainty nook, Where she sits in her sacred beauty, Lies crimson on the book. O beautiful eyes so tender, Brown eyes so tender and dear, Did you leave your reading a moment Just now, as I passed near? Maybe, ’tis the sunset flushes Her features, so lily-pale; Maybe, ’tis the lover’s passion, She reads of in the tale. O darling, and darling, and darling, If I dared to trust my thought; 128 If I dared to believe what I must not, Believe what no one ought,–– We would read together the poem Of the Love that never died, The passionate, world-old story Come true, and glorified.

129

THE THORN.