Xii

When day dies, lone, forsaken, And joy is kissed asleep; When doubt's gray eyes awaken, And love, with music taken From hearts with sighings shaken, Sits in the dusk to weep:

With ghostly-lifted finger What memory then shall rise? Of dark regret the bringer-- To tell the sorrowing singer Of days whose echoes linger, Till dawn unstars the skies.

When night is gone and, beaming, Faith journeys forth to toil; When hope's blue eyes wake gleaming, And life is done with dreaming The dreams that seem but seeming Within the world's turmoil:

Who may forget the presence Of death that walks unseen? Whose scythe casts shadowy crescents Around life's glittering essence, As lessens, slowly lessens, The space that lies between.