Page:All quiet along the Potomac and other poems.djvu/295

From Wikisource
Jump to: navigation, search
This page needs to be proofread.


THE MIDNIGHT GUEST. 289

Shall the vine, reaching upward no longer,

To the plane of the oak never rise, Catching now by the blossoming bramble ?

Is it true? Being true, is it wise?

I whisper no word of such musing,

I say pretty words of the ring, Hoping Love hath some infinite wisdom

To answer my heart s questioning.

��THE MIDNIGHT GUEST.

" TT is better so." Twas a woman s moan, 1 Full of stifled tears. Where the lamplight

shone

Through a vine-clad window, its ruddy glare Made a lane of light in the sweet dark air, For the rose that laughed in the sun all day Dewy-laden hung in the yellow ray, Where the tall white lilies shone out like stars, And the very gate seemed of golden bars.

Weary, weak, and wan, like a hopeless shade, Starting oft, as though of the winds afraid, Like a spectre born of the solemn Night, A woman stood in the lane of light. Her unfastened hair in the dew-fall shone, And her face was set like a face of stone, As she muttered o er, turning still to go, "It is better, darling yes, better so."

25 T

�� �