I remembered the fair and shrouded form
I had seen upon the bier,
And almost without knowing why,
My spirit quailed with fear;
And though I strove to be at ease
I could not see or hear.
Once more I stood on that moonlit bank,
And that old man gazed on me,
And his stony eyes shone with disdain
As he asked "Wouldst thou now see
Another page in the book of life—
A page filled out for thee?"
I could not bide that old man's smile,
It shone through the yellow air
With such a wild derisive gleam,
And his eyes had such a stare—
A stare so frozen and icy cold
That surely they could not glare.
Again my curdling blood stood still;
I struggled to even moan;
The old man smiled a pitiful smile,
And I sank into a swoon;
Nor dreamed again, 'till from my sleep
I was wakened by the tune
Of the night-wind in the waving wood,
And the brightness of the moon.
