Part 20 (2/2)

When the long day leans to the twilight, When the Evening star climbs to the moon, With a heart that is silently breaking, I sit in the gloaming and croon.

I croon a low song for my darling, My wee one, my baby, my own; Who, cradled in rosewood and velvet, Sleeps out in the churchyard alone.

Alone with no arms to enfold her, Alone with no pillowing breast, Alone with no hand on her cradle, To rock her to soundlier rest.

But each day in the hush of the twilight, Is silenced my broken heart's cry; And I sit where I sat with my darling, And sing her the old lullaby.

Oh! the dreams that come back to me mocking, The sorrow that makes the days long; As I sit in the twilight there rocking, And singing that lullaby song.

But I think my wee darling rests better As the night shadows lengthen, and creep Across her low bed, in the churchyard, If her mother's voice sings her to sleep.

And so with a heart that is breaking I sing the old 'Lullaby dear'

That hushed her so oft into slumber-- O baby--my own--do you hear?

MIRAGE

When the beautiful mountain ash is turning-- As lovely a sight as the eyes desire; When the leaves of the sumac bush are burning, Like the steady flame of a winter fire; When the weeds by the roadside all grow golden, When maples are glowing and asters gleam, It is then that the new is changed to the olden, And back to my heart comes the past like a dream.

Like a mirage I see the blue haze o'er me, The City of Youth that I left behind.

Oh! whitely its turrets are gleaming before me, And out of the window lean faces kind.

And I hear the echo of jubilant voices; There are cheeks of beauty and eyes of truth: And every pulse in my heart rejoices-- There's no other place like the City of Youth.

And lo! the City is full of splendour, And a voice in my soul breaks into song.

Yes, a pa.s.sionate love, as fair as tender, Creeps out of the grave where it slept so long.

As the strings of a harp by winds are shaken, To endless music my heart is stirred, When my name is breathed and my hand is taken, Though I cannot utter a single word.

But with souls that are full of the beautiful weather, And the perfect peace that has no name, Under the autumn skies together We stray, by the sumacs all aflame.

And the forest flushes to fuller glory: Brighter glow asters and golden rod, As eye unto eye tells the old, old story, And the sunlight seems like the smile of G.o.d.

Alone I stand and sorrowful hearted; The dead leaves fall in the chilly wind.

The mirage is fled, and the glory departed, And the City of Youth is far behind.

ALONE IN THE HOUSE

I am all alone in the house to-night; They would not have gone away Had they known of the terrible, bloodless fight I have held with my heart to-day.

With the old sweet love and the old fierce pain I have battled hour by hour; But the fates have willed that the strife is vain.

Alone in the hour my thoughts have reign, And I yield myself to their power.

Yield myself to the old time charm Of a dream of vanished bliss, The thrill of a voice, and the fold of an arm, And a red lip's lingering kiss.

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