Poems (Spofford)/Esher's Song

ESHER'S SONG.

Wild wails the wind, and blind the night and dreary,
No star abroad, no light upon the earth;
The fitful flame, of flickering grown weary,
Dead in its ash has fallen on the hearth.
Oh, cease, sad heart, your beating,
Cease your eager flight,
To no glad purpose fleetihg,
To no delight!

The swollen blast comes keening up the valley,
Shuddering and sighing past my shaken door;
No summer breeze of gentle toss and dally,—
A vast black breath blown from the unknown shore!
Oh, cease, sad heart, your beating,
Cease your eager flight,
Oh, driven leaf, unweeting
Of bloom or blight!

Ah, if far out upon the screaming billow
Some mast I loved were feathered by the sea!
Or if on some wet grave I made my pillow
That held the thing that once was dear to me!
Oh, cease, sad heart, your beating,
Cease your eager flight,
No prayer of power entreating.
From any height!

For desolate, for desolate and lonely,
Aimless and blind, without a wish I grope;
My mood a wan and stagnant shadow only,—
'T is not despair, for it was never hope!
Oh, cease, sad heart, your beating,
Cease your eager flight,
So sharp the storm is sleeting,
So wild the night!