PRESENTIMENT
"Sister, you've sat there all
the day,
Come to the hearth awhile;
The wind so wildly sweeps
away,
The clouds so darkly pile.
That open book has lain,
unread,
For hours upon your knee;
You've never smiled nor
turned your head;
What can you, sister, see?"
"Come hither, Jane, look
down the field;
How dense a mist creeps
on!
The path, the hedge, are
both concealed,
Ev'n the white gate is gone
No landscape through the
fog I trace,
No hill with pastures green;
All featureless is Nature's
face.
All masked in clouds her
mien.
"Scarce is the rustle of
a leaf
Heard in our garden now;
The year grows old, its
days wax brief,
The tresses leave its brow.
The rain drives fast before
the wind,
The sky is blank and grey;
O Jane, what sadness fills
the mind
On such a dreary day!"
"You think too much, my sister
dear;
You sit too long alone;
What though November days
be drear?
Full soon will they be gone.
I've swept the hearth, and
placed your chair,.
Come, Emma, sit by me;
Our own fireside is never
drear,
Though late and wintry wane
the year,
Though rough the night may
be."
"The peaceful glow of our
fireside
Imparts no peace to me:
My thoughts would rather
wander wide
Than rest, dear Jane, with
thee.
I'm on a distant journey
bound,
And if, about my heart,
Too closely kindred ties
were bound,
'Twould break when forced
to part.
"'Soon will November days
be o'er:'
Well have you spoken, Jane:
My own forebodings tell
me more--
For me, I know by presage
sure,
They'll ne'er return again.
Ere long, nor sun nor storm
to me
Will bring or joy or gloom;
They reach not that Eternity
Which soon will be my home."
Eight months are gone, the
summer sun
Sets in a glorious sky;
A quiet field, all green
and lone,
Receives its rosy dye.
Jane sits upon a shaded
stile,
Alone she sits there now;
Her head rests on her hand
the while,
And thought o'ercasts her
brow.
She's thinking of one winter's
day,
A few short months ago,
Then Emma's bier was borne
away
O'er wastes of frozen snow.
She's thinking how that
drifted snow
Dissolved in spring's first
gleam,
And how her sister's memory
now
Fades, even as fades a dream.
The snow will whiten earth
again,
But Emma comes no more;
She left, 'mid winter's
sleet and rain,
This world for Heaven's
far shore.
On Beulah's hills she wanders
now,
On Eden's tranquil plain;
To her shall Jane hereafter
go,
She ne'er shall come to
Jane! |
