ON JUDGES’ WALK.

THAT night on Judges' Walk the wind Was as the voice of doom; The heath, a lake of darkness, lay As silent as the tomb.

The vast night brooded, white with stars, Above the world's unrest; The awfulness of silence ached Like a strong heart repressed.

That night we walked beneath the trees, Alone, beneath the trees; There was some word we could not say Half uttered in the breeze.

That night on Judges' Walk we said No word of all we had to say; But now there shall be no word said Before the Judge's Day.