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6
A LITTLE CHILD'S MONUMENT.
Of sounding mystery,
In the ghostly forest
Of colossal pillars
Grows a dread procession:
Tramp! tramp! tramp!
Phantoms vast, sepulchral,
With dim downward eyes,
Move where yawns a dreary
Fathomless abyss.
What do they bear? they bear him,
My All, my Heart, my Heaven!
They let him fall therein!
Fall! fall! fall!
Fall ever in the abyss!
And my soul wails over,
Yearns to him in vain!
Cruel world! O cruel spirit
Of the world, with ne'er a heart!
All in vain I moan imploring;
Sleep! sleep! sleep!
II.
In the grey cathedral
Dawn red rays of morning,
And a sweet low music
Lifts me from the grave.
My dead pulses flutter,
