A GHOST AT THE DANCING.
119
Friends greet each other—countless rills of talk
Meander round, scattering a spray of smiles.
Surely—the news was false. One minute more
And thou wilt stand here, tall and quiet-eyed,
Shakespearian beauty in thy pensive face,
Amiel, Amiel.
Meander round, scattering a spray of smiles.
Surely—the news was false. One minute more
And thou wilt stand here, tall and quiet-eyed,
Shakespearian beauty in thy pensive face,
Amiel, Amiel.
Many here knew and loved thee—I nor loved,
Scarce knew—yet in thy place a shadow glides,
And a face shapes itself from empty air,
Watching the dancers, grave and quiet-eyed—
Eyes that now see the angels evermore,
Amiel, Amiel.
Scarce knew—yet in thy place a shadow glides,
And a face shapes itself from empty air,
Watching the dancers, grave and quiet-eyed—
Eyes that now see the angels evermore,
Amiel, Amiel.
On just such night as this, 'midst dance and song,
I bade thee carelessly a light good by—
"Goodby"—saidst thou; "A happy journey home!"
Was the unseen death-angel at thy side,
Mocking those words—"A happy journey home"
Amiel, Amiel?
I bade thee carelessly a light good by—
"Goodby"—saidst thou; "A happy journey home!"
Was the unseen death-angel at thy side,
Mocking those words—"A happy journey home"
Amiel, Amiel?
Ay, we play fool's play still; thou hast gone home.
While these dance here, a mile hence o'er thy grave
Drifts the deep New Year snow. The wondrous gate
We spoke of, thou hast entered; I without
While these dance here, a mile hence o'er thy grave
Drifts the deep New Year snow. The wondrous gate
We spoke of, thou hast entered; I without
