| |
| HOW beautiful it was, that one bright day | |
| In the long week of rain! | |
| Though all its splendor could not chase away | |
| The omnipresent pain. | |
| |
| The lovely town was white with apple-blooms, | 5 |
| And the great elms o’erhead | |
| Dark shadows wove on their aerial looms | |
| Shot through with golden thread. | |
| |
| Across the meadows, by the gray old manse, | |
| The historic river flowed; | 10 |
| I was as one who wanders in a trance, | |
| Unconscious of his road. | |
| |
| The faces of familiar friends seemed strange; | |
| Their voices I could hear, | |
| And yet the words they uttered seemed to change | 15 |
| Their meaning to my ear. | |
| |
| For the one face I looked for was not there, | |
| The one low voice was mute; | |
| Only an unseen presence filled the air, | |
| And baffled my pursuit. | 20 |
| |
| Now I look back, and meadow, manse, and stream | |
| Dimly my thought defines; | |
| I only see—a dream within a dream— | |
| The hill-top hearsed with pines. | |
| |
| I only hear above his place of rest | 25 |
| Their tender undertone, | |
| The infinite longings of a troubled breast, | |
| The voice so like his own. | |
| |
| There in seclusion and remote from men | |
| The wizard hand lies cold, | 30 |
| Which at its topmost speed let fall the pen, | |
| And left the tale half told. | |
| |
| Ah! who shall lift that wand of magic power, | |
| And the lost clew regain? | |
| The unfinished window in Aladdin’s tower | 35 |
| Unfinished must remain! | |
| |
