By night we linger’d on the lawn

By night we linger’d on the lawn,For underfoot the herb was dry;And genial warmth; and o’er the skyThe silvery haze of summer drawn;

And calm that let the tapers burnUnwavering: not a cricket chirr’d:The brook alone far-off was heardAnd on the board the fluttering urn:

And bats went round in fragrant skies,And wheel’d or lit the filmy shapesThat haunt the dusk, with ermine capesAnd woolly breasts and beaded eyes;

While now we sang old songs that peal’dFrom knoll to knoll, where, couch’d at ease,The white kine glimmer’d and the treesLaid their dark arms about the field.

But when those others, one by one,Withdrew themselves from me and night,And in the house light after lightWent out, and I was all alone,

A hunger seized my heart; I readOf that glad year which once had been,In those fall’n leaves which kept their green,The noble letters of the dead:

And strangely on the silence brokeThe silent-speaking words, and strangeWas love’s dumb cry defying changeTo test his worth; and strangely spoke

The faith, the vigour, bold to dwellOn doubts that drive the coward back,And keen thro’ wordy snares to trackSuggestion to her inmost cell.

So word by word, and line by line,The dead man touch’d me from the past,And all at once it seem’d at lastHis living soul was flash’d on mine,

And mine in his was wound, and whirl’dAbout empyreal heights of thought,And came on that which is, and caughtThe deep pulsations of the world,

Æonian music measuring outThe steps of Time--the shocks of Chance--The blows of Death. At length my tranceWas cancell’d, stricken thro’ with doubt.

Vague words! but ah, how hard to frameIn matter-moulded forms of speech,Or ev’n for intellect to reachThro’ memory that which I became:

Till now the doubtful dusk reveal’dThe knolls once more where, couch’d at ease,The white kine glimmer’d, and the treesLaid their dark arms about the field:

And suck’d from out the distant gloomA breeze began to tremble o’erThe large leaves of the sycamore,And fluctuate all the still perfume;

And gathering freshlier overhead,Rock’d the full-foliaged elms, and swungThe heavy-folded rose, and flungThe lilies to and fro, and said

‘The dawn, the dawn,’ and died away;And East and West, without a breath,Mixt their dim lights, like life and death,To broaden into boundless day.