THE DESERTED HOUSE. LIFE and Thought have gone away Leaving door and windows wide: All within is dark as night : And no murmur at the door, Close the door, the shutters close, Or through the windows we shall see The nakedness and vacancy Of the dark deserted house. Come away: no more of mirth Is here or merry-making sound. The house was builded of the earth, And shall fall again to ground. Come away for Life and Thought But in a city glorious— A great and distant city-have bought Would they could have stayed with us! THE DYING SWAN. THE plain was grassy, wild and bare, An under-roof of doleful gray. It was the middle of the day. Ever the weary wind went on, And took the reed-tops as it went. Some blue peaks in the distance rose, One willow over the river wept, And shook the wave as the wind did sigh; Above in the wind was the swallow, Chasing itself at its own wild will, And far thro' the marish green and still The tangled water-courses slept, Shot over with purple, and green, and yellow. The wild swan's death-hymn took the soul Hidden in sorrow at first to the ear The warble was low, and full and clear; Flow'd forth on a carol free and bold: As when a mighty people rejoice With shawms, and with cymbals, and harps of gold, And the tumult of their acclaim is roll'd Through the open gates of the city afar, To the shepherd who watcheth the evening star. And the wavy swell of the soughing reeds, Were flooded over with eddying song. A DIRGE. I. Now is done thy long day's work; Shadows of the silver birk Sweep the green that folds thy grave. Let them rave. II. Thee nor carketh care nor slander ; Nothing but the small cold worm Let them rave. Light and shadow ever wander O'er the green that folds thy grave. |