ONE summer eve, in the woodbine bower We sat once more at the window lonely; The moon arose with life-giving power, But we appear'd two spectres only. Twelve years had pass'd since the last occasion When we on this spot had sat together; Each tender glow, each loving persuasion Had mean while been quench'd in life's rough weather. I silently sat. The woman, however, Just like her sex, amongst love's ashes Must needs be raking, but vain her endeavour To kindle again its long-quench'd flashes. And she recounted how she had contended With evil thoughts, the story disclosing How hardly she once her virtue defended, -- I stupidly listened to all her prosing. When homeward I rode, the trees beside me Like spirits beneath the moon's rays flitted; Sad voices call'd, but onward I hied me, Yes, I and the dead, who my side ne'er quitted. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE COLORED SOLDIERS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR PUTTING IN THE SEED by ROBERT FROST THE MEETING OF THE WATERS by THOMAS MOORE HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 7 by EZRA POUND ON A CURATE'S COMPLAINT OF HARD DUTY by JONATHAN SWIFT PSALM 137 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE AUTHOR'S LAST WORDS TO HIS STUDENTS by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |