The night has a thousand eyes and other poems . eams and drowse,Till the morning made it flee. My house is builded of years decayed, And in vain I fill it with new glad light, For a love that is lost is a ghost unlaidThat troubles the silent night. 46 A LOST LOVE. A S our childhoocrs world of wood and field,**? That strangers now possess;As a dead mothers face in sleep revealedTo her child in its lonehness; As a dream of home to an exile banished Forever beyond the sea, —So vainly sweet, O love long vanished. Is the sound of thy name to me ! 47 GATHERED ROSES. /^NLY a bee made prisoner,^-^ Cau
The night has a thousand eyes and other poems . eams and drowse,Till the morning made it flee. My house is builded of years decayed, And in vain I fill it with new glad light, For a love that is lost is a ghost unlaidThat troubles the silent night. 46 A LOST LOVE. A S our childhoocrs world of wood and field,**? That strangers now possess;As a dead mothers face in sleep revealedTo her child in its lonehness; As a dream of home to an exile banished Forever beyond the sea, —So vainly sweet, O love long vanished. Is the sound of thy name to me ! 47 GATHERED ROSES. /^NLY a bee made prisoner,^-^ Caught in a gathered rose!Was he not ware a flower so fairFor the first gatherer grows ? Only a heart made prisoner,Going out free no more! Was he not ware a face so fair Must have been gathered before? 48 DROPPED PRIMROSES. nPHEY grew in the grassy byway,?• With the hazel wands oerhead;They He in the dusty highway,Dying or dead. O flowers too soon forsaken! O tender hearts grief-torn !By a light love idly taken And left forlorn ! ^s^^^ ^. 49 AFTER LOVES DEATH. A FTER the sunshine, nightAfter the summer, rain;After days of delightCome days of pain. After the darkness, light; After the winter, Loves death, delight, Ah, who can bring! 50 LIGHT AT EVENTIDE. AITHAT heart except to die can find * The rain-beat roses, Though storms be past and heaven grow kindEre daylight closes? O sunless lives, long taught to bend By years of can ye do if sorrows end But die of gladness ? 51 WAITING. f^f0^- HEN rose-leaves in long grasses fallTo hide their shattered head,All tenderly the grasses tall/ Bow down to veil the dead. And there are hearts content to wait, Still as the grasses lie,Till those they love, however late, Turn there at last to die.
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