Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916. | | XVI. Crossed Hands and Closed Eyes In the dim chamber | By John Hay (18381905) |
| IN the dim chamber whence but yesterday | |
Passed my belovèd, filled with awe I stand; | |
And haunting Loves fluttering on every hand | |
Whisper her praises who is far away. | |
A thousand delicate fancies glance and play | 5 |
On every object which her robes have fanned, | |
And tenderest thoughts and hopes bloom and expand | |
In the sweet memory of her beautys ray. | |
Ah! could that glass but hold the faintest trace | |
Of all the loveliness once mirrored there, | 10 |
The clustering glory of the shadowy hair | |
That framed so well the dear young angel-face! | |
But no, it shows my own face, full of care, | |
And my heart is her beautys dwelling-place. | | | |
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