No More Learning

Perhaps they say: "She grieves,
Uplifted, like a beacon, on her tower. "
Perhaps they say: "One hour
More, and we dance among the golden sheaves. "
Perhaps they say: "One hour
More, and we stand,
Face to face, hand in hand;
Make haste, O slack gale, to the looked-for land! "

My trees are not in flower,
I have no bower,
And gusty creaks my tower,
And lonesome, very lonesome, is my strand.



THE GHOST'S PETITION.


"There's a footstep coming: look out and see. "--
"The leaves are falling, the wind is calling;
No one cometh across the lea. "--

"There's a footstep coming: O sister, look. "--
"The ripple flashes, the white foam dashes;
No one cometh across the brook. "--

"But he promised that he would come:
To-night, to-morrow, in joy or sorrow,
He must keep his word, and must come home.

"For he promised that he would come:
His word was given; from earth or heaven,
He must keep his word, and must come home.

"Go to sleep, my sweet sister Jane;
You can slumber, who need not number
Hour after hour, in doubt and pain.

"I shall sit here awhile, and watch;
Listening, hoping, for one hand groping
In deep shadow to find the latch. "

After the dark, and before the light,
One lay sleeping; and one sat weeping,
Who had watched and wept the weary night.

After the night, and before the day,
One lay sleeping; and one sat weeping,--
Watching, weeping for one away.
There came a footstep climbing the stair;
Some one standing out on the landing
Shook the door like a puff of air,--

Shook the door, and in he passed.
Did he enter? In the room centre
Stood her husband: the door shut fast.

"O Robin, but you are cold,--
Chilled with the night-dew: so lily-white you
Look like a stray lamb from our fold.

"O Robin, but you are late:
Come and sit near me,--sit here and cheer me. "--
(Blue the flame burnt in the grate. )

"Lay not down your head on my breast:
I cannot hold you, kind wife, nor fold you
In the shelter that you love best.

"Feel not after my clasping hand:
I am but a shadow, come from the meadow
Where many lie, but no tree can stand.

"We are trees which have shed their leaves:
Our heads lie low there, but no tears flow there;
Only I grieve for my wife who grieves.

"I could rest if you would not moan
Hour after hour; I have no power
To shut my ears where I lie alone.

"I could rest if you would not cry;
But there's no sleeping while you sit weeping,--
Watching, weeping so bitterly. "--

"Woe's me! woe's me! for this I have heard.
O, night of sorrow! --O, black to-morrow!