140
THE MIDNIGHT VIGIL.
BY THE SICK-BED OF A MOTHER.
They say a tempest is abroad to-night;
They tell me of its fearful sights and sounds,—
Of driving rains, the rush and roar of winds,
The plunge of torrents o'er the mountain side,
The burst of thunder, and the lurid track
Of the quick lightning, leaping down the skies!
They tell me of its fearful sights and sounds,—
Of driving rains, the rush and roar of winds,
The plunge of torrents o'er the mountain side,
The burst of thunder, and the lurid track
Of the quick lightning, leaping down the skies!
But deeper midnight and a colder gloom
Enwrap my life,—within my bosom reigns
A wilder, sterner strife,—while bows my head,
Bared to the peltings of a mightier storm!
Enwrap my life,—within my bosom reigns
A wilder, sterner strife,—while bows my head,
Bared to the peltings of a mightier storm!
The hour is nigh at hand,—the hour that oft
Darkened my childhood's dreams in nights of fear;
Whose icy thought had e'er strange power to chill
The bounding pulse of joy, since first my lips
Essayed to lisp the most beloved name.
Darkened my childhood's dreams in nights of fear;
Whose icy thought had e'er strange power to chill
The bounding pulse of joy, since first my lips
Essayed to lisp the most beloved name.
