Night Comes Creeping
Night comes creeping slowly o'er me,
Like a vapor cold and gray;
Dim the track that lies before me,
Lost the lingering smile of day.
As a river, nearing ocean,
Drops the brooklet's merry bell,
I forget hope's wild emotion;
Love and life, farewell, farewell!
Eyes above me raining sorrow,
Lips too tender to be true,
In the sunshine of tomorrow
Glow and sweetness shall renew.
I have trod a weary measure,
Fairy-tales no more I tell.
False is pain, and fleeting pleasure;
Love and life, farewell, farewell!
Softly through the darkened heaven,
Like a vision in the night,
Float the purple wings of even;
No more laughter, no more light.
Close mine eyes, worn out with weeping,
Weary pulses rest as well!
In the dust and silence sleeping,
Love and life, farewell, farewell!
How does a woman love? Once, no more,
Though life forever its loss deplore;
Deep in sorrow or deep in sin,
One king reigneth her heart within,
One alone, by night and day,
Moves her spirit to curse or pray.
One voice only can call her soul
Back from the grasp of death's control;
Though loves beset her, or friends deride,
Yea, when she smileth another's bride,
Still for her master her life makes moan,
Once is forever, and once alone.
How does a man love? Once for all.
The sweetest voices of life may call,
Sorrow daunted him, or death dismay,
Joy's red roses bedeck his way;
Fortune smile, or jest, or frown,
The cruel thumb of the world turn down,
Loss betray him, or love delight,
Through storm or sunshine, by day or night,
Wandering, toiling, asleep, awake,
Though souls may madden, or weak hearts break,
Better than wife, or child, or pelf,
Once and forever, he loves-himself.
Trailing Arbutus
Darlings of the forest!
Blossoming alone
When Earth's grief is sorest
For her jewels gone
Ere the last snow-drift melts, your tender buds have blown.
Tinged with color faintly,
Like the morning sky,
Or more pale and saintly,
Wrapped in leaves ye lie,
Even as children sleep in faith's simplicity.
There the wild wood-robin
Hymns your solitude,
And the rain comes sobbing
Through the budding wood,
While the low south wind sighs, but dare not be more rude.
Were your pure lips fashioned
Out of air and dew:
Starlight unimpassioned,
Dawn's most tender hue
And scented by the woods that gathered sweets for you?
Fairest and most lonely,
From the world apart,
Made for beauty only,
Veiled from Nature's heart,
With such unconscious grace as makes the dream of Art!
Were not mortal sorrow
An immortal shade,
Then would I tomorrow
Such a flower be made,
And live in the dear woods where my lost childhood played.
The Death Of Goody Nurse
The chill New England sunshine
Lay on the kitchen floor;
The wild New England north wind
Came rattling at the door.
And by the wide old fire-place,
Deep in her cushioned chair.
Lay back an ancient woman,
With shining snow-white hair.
The peace of God was on her face.
Her eyes were sweet and calm,
And when you heard her earnest voice
It sounded like a psalm.
In all the land they loved her well;
From country and from town
Came many a heart for counsel,
And many a soul cast down.
Her hands had fed the hungry poor
With blessing and with bread;
Her face was like a comforting
From out the Gospel read.
So weak and silent as she lay,
Her warm hands clasped in prayer,
A sudden knocking at the door
Came on her unaware.
And as she turned her hoary head,
Beside her chair there stood
Four grim and grisly Puritans —
No visitants for good.
They came upon her like a host.
And bade her speak and tell
Why she had sworn a wicked oath
To serve the powers of hell;
To work the works of darkness
On children of the light,
A witch they might not suffer here
Who read the Word aright.
Like one who sees her fireside yawn,
A pit of black despair,
Or one who wakes from quiet dreams
Within a lion's lair,
She glared at them with starting, eyes,
Her voice essayed no sound;
She gasped like any hunted deer
The eager dogs surround.
'Answer us!' hoarse and loud they cry;
She looked from side to side —
No human help — 'Oh, gracious God!'
In agony she cried.
Then, calling back her feeble life,
The white lips uttered slow,
'I am as pure as babe unborn
From this foul thing, ye know.
'If God doth visit me for sin,
Beneath His rod I bend,'
But pitiless and wroth were they,
And bent upon their end.
They tortured her with taunt and jeer,
They vexed her night and day —
No husband's arm nor sister's tears
Availed their rage to stay.
Before the church they haled her then;
The minister arose
And poured upon her patient head
The worst of all its woes:
He bade her be accursed of God
Forever here and there;
He cursed her with a heavy curse
No mortal man may bear.
She stood among the cowering crowd
As calm as saints in heaven.
Her eyes as sweet as summer skies.
Her face like summer's even.
The devils wrought their wicked will
On matron and on maid.
'Thou hast bewitched us!' cried they all,
But not a word she said.
They fastened chains about her feet,
And carried her away;
For many days in Salem jail
Alone and ill she lay
She heard the scythe along the field
Ring through the fragrant air,
She smelt the wild-rose on the wind
That bloweth everywhere.
Reviled and hated and bereft.
The soul had plenteous rest,
Though sorrow like a frantic flood
Beat sore upon her breast.
At last the prison door stood wide.
They led the saint abroad;
By many an old familiar place
Her trembling footsteps trod.
Till faint with weakness and distress,
She climbed a hillside bleak,
And faced the gallows built thereon.
Still undisturbed and meek.
They hanged this weary woman there.
Like any felon stout;
Her white hairs on the cruel rope
Were scattered all about.
The body swung upon the tree
In every flitting wind,
Reviled and mocked by passengers
And folk of evil mind.
A woman old and innocent,
To die a death of shame.
With kindred, neighbors, friends thereby,
And none to utter blame.
Oh, God, that such a thing should be
On earth which Thou hast made!
A voice from heaven answered me,
' Father forgive,' He said.