the bridge of the dragon.
55
No omen sweet; transparent shone the day,
And rich with flowings of the summer tide:—
"But earth is sick," she mused, "she takes no heed;"
And through her brain thoughts ran with crimson speed.
And rich with flowings of the summer tide:—
"But earth is sick," she mused, "she takes no heed;"
And through her brain thoughts ran with crimson speed.
From day to day more grievous waxed their bale,—
Weeks passed and months, nor any comfort brought;
Like one who treads a death-room, cold and pale,
With velvet pace the light stole in and out;
There was no winged joy—no insect wail—
No hum of little life always about;
Till summer wasted by, and from the north
The fierce gales blew, and drove the monster forth.
Weeks passed and months, nor any comfort brought;
Like one who treads a death-room, cold and pale,
With velvet pace the light stole in and out;
There was no winged joy—no insect wail—
No hum of little life always about;
Till summer wasted by, and from the north
The fierce gales blew, and drove the monster forth.
Brief joy! brief hope! sad breathing space for those
Who but take breath to meet the coming toil!
"When May returns," they cried, "with the early rose,
Jesus us save, and God our sins assoil!
All hope is gone from us, all dear repose,
For guilty have we been, we may not foil
Who but take breath to meet the coming toil!
"When May returns," they cried, "with the early rose,
Jesus us save, and God our sins assoil!
All hope is gone from us, all dear repose,
For guilty have we been, we may not foil
