A Hidden Life and Other Poems by George MacDonald
page 54 of 339 (15%)
page 54 of 339 (15%)
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All suddenly--he knew not how she came--
A lady, closely veiled, alone, and still, Seated upon a grave. Long time she sat And moved not, "greetin' sair," the boy did say; "Just like my mither whan my father deed. An' syne she rase, an' pu'd at something sma', A glintin' gowan, or maybe a blade O' the dead grass," and glided silent forth, Over the low stone wall by two old steps, And round the corner, and was seen no more. The clang of hoofs and sound of carriage wheels Arose and died upon the listener's ear. THE HOMELESS GHOST. Still flowed the music, flowed the wine. The youth in silence went; Through naked streets, in cold moonshine, His homeward way he bent, Where, on the city's seaward line, His lattice seaward leant. He knew not why he left the throng, But that he could not rest; That something pained him in the song, And mocked him in the jest; |
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