174
Pine-wood Glooms –
We found by chance a thicket of tall pines Deep in a dale That caught the Spring, and ran in sunny lines Between the hill and vale. –
Desolate, old, unblossoming it lay – A thing apart: Like some great sorrow hidden deep away In a sweet innocent heart. –
For all without was sunshine, and the song Of thrush and wren, And breakings-out of dewy buds along The green-gold of the glen. –
But in its silent depths was not a sound, Nor any light: Only a stillness, awful and profound, And a weird gloom of night. –
There, too, beneath a gl gnarled root, strange to tell, Grew all bereaven A single primrose: one white sunbeam fell Beside it out of heaven. ----¯---- Quiver [in pencil; if published, untraced. TLM.]
Jan: 1888