THE day was dark, save when the beam Of noon through darkness broke; In gloom I sate, as in a dream, Beneath my orchard oak; Lo! splendour, like a spirit, came, A shadow like a tree! While there I sat, and named her name, Who once sat there with me. I started from the seat in fear; I look'd around in awe; But saw no beauteous spirit near, Though all that was I saw; The seat, the tree, where oft, in tears, She mourn'd her hopes o'erthrown Her joys cut off in early years, Like gather'd flowers half-blown. Again the bud and breeze were met, But Mary did not come; And e'en the rose, which she had set, Was fated ne'er to bloom! The thrush proclaim'd, in accents sweet, That winter's rain was o'er; The bluebells throng'd around my feet, But Mary came no more. I think, I feel -- but when will she Awake to thought again? A voice of comfort answers me, That God does nought in vain: He wastes nor flower, nor bud, nor leaf, Nor wind, nor cloud, nor wave; And will he waste the hope which grief Hath planted in the grave? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SOULS LAKE by ROBERT STUART FITZGERALD STANZAS; HOOD'S LAST POEM by THOMAS HOOD THE OLD FERRYMAN by ANTIPHILUS OF BYZANTIUM THE CANAL by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE LITTLE CLOUD by JOHN HOWARD BRYANT LINES WRITTEN IMMEDIATELY AFTER PARTING FROM A LADY by SAMUEL EGERTON BRYDGES |