POEMS
186 Others
flit like midnight ghosts. Shrouded and mysterious.
There are thoughts that o'er me steal. Like the day when dawning; Great thoughts winged with melody
Common Moving
utterance scorning.
an inward tune. And an inward morning. in
Some have dark and drooping Children
wings.
of sorrow; Some are as gay, as if to-day Could see no cloudy morrow, And yet, like light and shade, they each all
—
Must from
the other borrow.
One by one they come
to
me
On
their destined mission; One by one I see them fade With no hopeless vision;
For they've led
To
their
me on
home
a step Elysian.
THE PHOENIX.'
My bosom's Phoenix has assured His nest in sky-vault's cope. In the body's eye immured
He
is
weary of
life's
Round and round
hope.
this heap of ashes the bird amain. But in that odorous niche of heaven Nestles the bird again.
Now
flies
1
The
Soul.