The Lonely Landscape

Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.

I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night's decay
Ushers in a drearier day.

The starry night shall tidings bring ; 
Go out upon the breezy moor, 
Watch for a bird with sable wing, 
And beak and talons dropping gore. 
Look not around, look not beneath, 
But mutely trace its airy way, 
Mark where it lights upon the heath ; 
Then, wanderer, kneel thee down, and pray. 
What fortune may await thee there, 
I will not, and I dare not tell ; 
But Heaven is moved by fervent prayer, 
And God is mercy fare thee well!

It is not pride, it is not shame, 
That makes her leave the gorgeous hall ; 
And though neglect her heart might tame, 
She mourns not for her sudden fall. 
'Tis true she stands among the crowd, 
An unmarked and an unloved child. 
While each young comrade, blithe and proud, 
Glides through the maze of pleasure wild. 
And all do homage to their will, 
And all seem glad their voice to hear ; 
She heeds not that, but hardly still 
Her eye can hold the quivering tear. 
What made her weep, what made her glide 
Out to the park this dreary day,
And cast her jewelled chains aside. 

And seek a rough and lonely way ; 
And down beneath a cedar's shade, 
On the wet grass regardless lie, 
With nothing but its gloomy head 
Between her and the showering sky ? 
I saw her stand in the gallery long, 
Watching those little children there, 
As they were playing the pillars 'mong, 
And bounding down the marble stair. 

The night is darkening round me,
The wild winds coldly blow;
But a tyrant spell has bound me
And I cannot, cannot go.

The giant trees are bending
Their bare boughs weighed with snow,
And the storm is fast descending
And yet I cannot go.

Clouds upon clouds above me,
Wastes beyond wastes here below
But nothing here can move me;
I cannot, I will not go.

'Tis moonlight, summer moonlight,
All soft and still and fair;
The solemn hour of midnight
Breathes sweet thoughts everywhere,

But most where trees are sending
Their breezy boughs on high,
Or stooping low are lending
A shelter from the sky.

And there in those wild bowers
A lovely form is laid;
Green grass and dew-steeped flowers
Wave gently round her head. 

I'm happiest when most away
I can bear my soul from its home of clay
On a windy night when the moon is bright
And the eye can wander thru worlds of light

When I am not and none beside
Nor earth nor sea nor cloudless sky
But only spirit wandering wide
Thru infinite immensity.

The battle has passed from the height
And still did evening fall
While heaven with its hosts of night
Gloriously canopied all

The dead around were sleeping
On heath and granite grey
And the dying their last watch were keeping
In the closing of the day.