XV
THE PILGRIM'S REVERY
THE PILGRIM'S REVERY
The waning moon shines pale and still;
The winds in russet branches die;
Day faints upon the darkening hill,
And melts into the days gone by.
The winds in russet branches die;
Day faints upon the darkening hill,
And melts into the days gone by.
The vanished days! now dim and far,
Yet none so dead they cannot wake
And stir in me, as yon high star
Quivers, deep-visioned, in the lake.
Yet none so dead they cannot wake
And stir in me, as yon high star
Quivers, deep-visioned, in the lake.
They glimmer down the moon's long beam,
They rustle in the russet tree;
They fade in twilight's melting dream,
And slide in starlight down to me.
They rustle in the russet tree;
They fade in twilight's melting dream,
And slide in starlight down to me.
I feel the hush of brooding wings,
The warmth of tender joys far flown,
And little flights and flutterings
Of blessings that were once my own.
The warmth of tender joys far flown,
And little flights and flutterings
Of blessings that were once my own.
But O, most sweet, and O, most sad,
Of all these lost delights that thrill!—
The blessings that I almost had,
But life can never more fulfill.
Of all these lost delights that thrill!—
The blessings that I almost had,
But life can never more fulfill.
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