THE WIND AT NIGHT.
11
Lying so straightly in an icy calm
Grander than sovereignty, was but as ye,—
No better and no worse;—Heaven mend us all!
Grander than sovereignty, was but as ye,—
No better and no worse;—Heaven mend us all!
Carry him forth and bury him. Death's peace
Rest on his memory! Mercy by his bier
Sits silent, or says only these few words,—
"Let him who is without sin 'mongst ye all
Cast the first stone."
Rest on his memory! Mercy by his bier
Sits silent, or says only these few words,—
"Let him who is without sin 'mongst ye all
Cast the first stone."
THE WIND AT NIGHT.
SUDDEN blast, that through this silence black Sweeps past my windows,
Coming and going with invisible track
As death or sin does,—
Why scare me, lying sick, and, save thine own,
Hearing no voices?
Why mingle with a helpless human moan
Thy mad rejoices?
Hearing no voices?
Why mingle with a helpless human moan
Thy mad rejoices?
Why not come gently, as good angels come
To souls departing,
To souls departing,
