Iii

One listening bent, in dread of something coming He can not flee nor balk-- A phantom footstep, in the ghostly gloaming, That haunts a ruined walk.

Long has he given his whole heart's hard endeavor To labor, dark and dawn, Dreaming that Love still watched his toil and ever Turned kindly eyes thereon.

Now in his life, he feels, there nears an hour, Inevitable, alas! When in the darkness he shall cringe and cower, And see his dead self pass.