The tower of lahneck.
87
Lifting her wan face, to the chasm's edge
Stole fearfully. A black, fixed gloom half way
Filled the deep, well-like tower; gray threads of light
Drawn through the ragged crevices, or caught
On the vine branches, seemed the gossamer skein
The spider wove from wall to wall, or spread
Over the ivy. They who from its depths
Withdrew their looks, each in the other's eyes
Searching for comfort, read the sharp dismay
Neither had spoken.
Hiding in her soul
One hope that like a precious perfume might
Exhale in the disclosing, Ida crept
Back to the turret's' verge, and steadfastly
Screening her eyes from the descending sun,
Looked o'er the parapet. The wooded hills
Sprinkled with sunshine, and the vales between
Lapped in dim lovely shade, seemed overspread
With a faint ghastliness. Except the crow
Flapping above the forest, or the wings
Of the fierce eagles, or the bird that flew
Dipping along the river, nothing stirred
Stole fearfully. A black, fixed gloom half way
Filled the deep, well-like tower; gray threads of light
Drawn through the ragged crevices, or caught
On the vine branches, seemed the gossamer skein
The spider wove from wall to wall, or spread
Over the ivy. They who from its depths
Withdrew their looks, each in the other's eyes
Searching for comfort, read the sharp dismay
Neither had spoken.
Hiding in her soul
One hope that like a precious perfume might
Exhale in the disclosing, Ida crept
Back to the turret's' verge, and steadfastly
Screening her eyes from the descending sun,
Looked o'er the parapet. The wooded hills
Sprinkled with sunshine, and the vales between
Lapped in dim lovely shade, seemed overspread
With a faint ghastliness. Except the crow
Flapping above the forest, or the wings
Of the fierce eagles, or the bird that flew
Dipping along the river, nothing stirred
