134
Poems
The while the earth grows colder, and the chill
Has even reached the vineyard on the hill.
At last hope's light went out,—then silence came,—
Save when she heard the whispers of his fame;
And in the darkened world she sits alone
With love,—by her dead faith,—without a moan.
But oh; the hungry heart's wild, longing cry,—
To hear his voice beloved once more,—and die!
Has even reached the vineyard on the hill.
At last hope's light went out,—then silence came,—
Save when she heard the whispers of his fame;
And in the darkened world she sits alone
With love,—by her dead faith,—without a moan.
But oh; the hungry heart's wild, longing cry,—
To hear his voice beloved once more,—and die!
To touch his hand! to know that he is near!
To kiss the straying feet,—still dear,—so dear!
The longing grew, and grew, till it became
A passion, filling all the world with flame,
That burned up every feeling, save that one,—
To see him! see him! then let life be done!
At last, in pity, on the bursting heart
God lays his hand, and wisely draws apart
The jarring chords; and sets the spirit free,
To pour the pain out in sweet melody.
To kiss the straying feet,—still dear,—so dear!
The longing grew, and grew, till it became
A passion, filling all the world with flame,
That burned up every feeling, save that one,—
To see him! see him! then let life be done!
At last, in pity, on the bursting heart
God lays his hand, and wisely draws apart
The jarring chords; and sets the spirit free,
To pour the pain out in sweet melody.
The tale is ended; and the loud acclaim
Rings through the hall, and thousands shout her name.
Men high in power,—princess of church and state,
To do her homage, on her fancy wait;—
Meanwhile Raphael still sits in silent pride,
Rings through the hall, and thousands shout her name.
Men high in power,—princess of church and state,
To do her homage, on her fancy wait;—
Meanwhile Raphael still sits in silent pride,
