Page:Poems Davidson.djvu/177

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THE VISION.
'Twas evening—all was calm and silent, save
The low, hoarse dashing of the distant wave;
The whip-poor-will had closed his pensive lay,
Which sweetly mourned the sun's declining ray;
Tired of a world surcharged with pain and woe,
Weary of heartless forms and all below,
Broken each tie, bereft of every friend,
Whose sympathy might consolation lend,
And musing on each vain and earthly toy,
Walked the once gay and still brave Oleroy.
Thus lost in thought, unconsciously he strayed,
When a dark forest wild around him laid.
In vain he tried the beaten path to gain,
He sought it earnestly, but sought in vain;
At length o'ercome, he sunk upon the ground,
Where the dark ivy twined its branches round:
Sudden there rose upon his wandering ear,
Notes which e'en angels might delighted hear.
Now low they murmur, now majestic rise,
As though "some spirit banished from the skies"
Had there repaired to tune the mournful lay,
"And chase the sorrows of his soul away."
They ceased—when lo! a brilliant dazzling light
Illumed the wood and chased the shades of night;
He raised his head; there stood, near Oleroy,
The beauteous figure of a smiling boy;