AT DUSK.

ALONE, in the waning light,

Alone, in the darkening night,

Sits she, silent and forlorn,

Still patient, tho' overworn,

Watching for the face that she

Is nevermore to see.

In the dull dusk, fire-lit,

Wherethro' wan shadows flit,

That fill her heart and brain

With a ghostly sense of pain,

She lists for a footfall near

That she nevermore will hear.

In the crumbling tower of flame

She reads the beloved name,

That ne'er from her lips again

Will greet his ears, as when,

From the thickening outer gloom,

He enter'd the twilight room.

For tho' she wait till death

Steals, as air steals smoke, her breath,

The waited shall never come;

The dead lips are ever dumb

To answer her earnest prayers,

Or whisper away her cares.

O hearts, whom hope hath mockt

Through fate's dark windows lockt,

Surely the lost ye weep

Shall not for ever sleep

Thro' the wide-forgetting years,

Tho' they wake not at your tears!

ED.