Rescuers
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Rescuers
ISBN: 0786936144420
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The sexton, shouldcríng his pick, Went off and soon was
lost to sight I heard him singing through his teeth; Then came the
advent of the night. Deep silence reigned, the shadows strewed
Their veils about me, as I said: "My God, into what solitude "Do we
consign our deadl" In long and frozen winter-nights. When timbers
creak before the gale When lash the trembling window panes The
furious gusts of sleet and hail. My heart recalls with dismal groan
The poor girl sleeping there alone. There falls the rain's eternal
sound In dripping, dreary monotone; The tempest's breath perhaps
disturbs Her rest, abandoned and alone; Close to the stone-wall,
green with mould. Perhaps her bones are chilled with coldl Does
dust return to dust ? And does The soul fly upward to the sky ? Or
else, is all vile matter, which Decays, and is condemned to die ? I
know not, but I can't explain That something which Jmpans to me
Alike repugnancy and pain, To think, that we should calmly see. Our
dead consigned to such a rude. Relentless, mournful solitude! »-i b,
Google
The text on this page is estimated to be only 24.33%
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LXXIV Their robes ungirt with dignity sedate, Extracted
from its sheath the flaming sword, Upon the golden threshold of the
gate Two angels stood on guard. As toward the iron staves I
ventured near, The entrance warding, — I saw, as I blinked Through
double rows of gratings in the rear. Her, white and indistinct. I saw
her, just as one an image might In light and non-oppressive dreams
see pass; Like a diffused and slender ray of tight Swims in a darle
morass. I felt my soul seized with a fierce desire; As an abyss
attracts with fearful yawn. So towards this mystery, my mind afire, I
felt myself drawn on. But, woe is mel The angels indicate By their
expression, that this hope is dross; It seems to say: "The threshold
of this gate "No one but God may cross!" I, Google
The text on this page is estimated to be only 25.19%
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LXXV May it be true, that, when our eyes are tipped By
slumber's rosy fingers, — soars in flight The soul, from its residing
prison slipped. To empyrean height ? May it be true, that on a gust
of air It rises, winged, the guest of mists, into An empty space,
nocturnal breezes lair, For general rendezvous ? And, that, denuded
of its human guise It has, for brief hours, as asylum sought The
realm, where broken all terrestrial ties. The silent world of thought ?
And laughs and weeps and hates and loves, and keeps For souvenir
a trail of joy and pain. As when a meteor in grandeur sweeps Across
the heavenly plain ? I do not know, if this strange world of dreams
May live without, or from within us flow; But many people do I
know, it seems, Whom yet I do not know. >— 'Cot^gk
The text on this page is estimated to be only 27.79%
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LXXVI I aaw in the imposing nave of the Byzantine dome
Within its dim, uncertain light, an ancient Gothic tomb; The
trembling rays through colored panes accentuate the gloom. A book
within her hands, which are enfoldeil o'er her breast, A beauteous
woman o'er an urn recumbent, is at rest; The chisel, which produced
that form, ranked surely with the best. The rigid couch of granite
swelled with softened fold and plait. As if it were of tender down and
satin delicate. In which her comely body sank its non-resisting
weight. The face preserved of its last smile, a radiant effigy. Just as
the Western sky retains the glories of the day, Whene'er the dying
sun has spent his lina), furtive ray. Two angels sat within a row,
whose obvious intent Beside her stony pillow, on their lips a ñnger
bent, To caution reverent silence in the calm environ»-i b, Google
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She seemed not dead, but sleeping there, as she reposeful
líes Beneath the massive arches and half-shadowed canopies; And in
her dreams she seemed to have a view of Paradise. I cautiously
approached the sombre corner of the As men with muffled footstep
and with bated breath behave. When they, beside a cradle, would an
infant's slumber save. I looked at her a moment, as she with gentle
grace Reclined upon her couch of stone, and at the glorious face
And where, beside her, near the wall, remained a vacant space. And
in my soul was roused to life that infinite desire, Which burns within
this life of death, like latent. anxious tire. To gain that life, where
centuries like instances transpire. Fatigued with endless combats, in
which I, wrestling, live, I sometimes think with envy of her calm
alternaOf that placid, hidden corner, — like a mental sedative. I,
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That mute and pallid woman at intervals will dwell In mind
and then I say: "Death loves us silently and well; "How tranquil must
her slumber be within that narrow cclll" »-i b, Google
The text on this page is estimated to be only 4.33%
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»-i b, Google