12
poems.
A MIDNIGHT VISION.
'Tis the last night of the Old Year,
And I turn, with tearful eye,
To gaze on the ceaseless ticking clock,
And see the goddess die.
And I turn, with tearful eye,
To gaze on the ceaseless ticking clock,
And see the goddess die.
Silently, tearfully, there she stands,
With a wreath upon her brow—
A wreath of forget-me-nots, faded and worn:
Hush! she is speaking now!
With a wreath upon her brow—
A wreath of forget-me-nots, faded and worn:
Hush! she is speaking now!
"I am fading, child of vision,
Leaving joy and mirth behind;
With my garments drawn about me,
Sink I to my death-bed kind.
Leaving joy and mirth behind;
With my garments drawn about me,
Sink I to my death-bed kind.
"I remember my bright birthday,
And my playmates kind and true—
How we rambled in the meadows,
Underneath the sky of blue.
And my playmates kind and true—
How we rambled in the meadows,
Underneath the sky of blue.
