Isabella Fyvie Mayo Poems

On rolled the mighty melody,
As though multitude passed by
A sea of sound and sweetness; here and there
A clear young voice pealed high:
...

Sitting alone in the twilight time,
Alas! how silent the old house seems
Kissing the voices that only chime
In waking fancies or sleeping dreams!
I sit in my mother's old arm-chair,
But where are the others? Ah where? ah where?
...

Beside the window I sit alone,
And I watch as the stars come out,
I catch the sweetness of Lucy's tone,
And the mirth of the chorus' shout:
I listen and look on the solemn night,
Whilst they stand singing beneath the light.
...

The sun flares out in the ruddy east,
The ships stand rigid, like ghostly trees:
The roar and rattle of work have ceased,
The bathers' laugh comes up on the breeze,
And in the flash of the sunset gold
I count the chests I have bought and sold.
...

The girl sat down 'mid the rustling corn,
And startled a nested bird,
And up it sprang with a burst of song;
But I do not think she heard.
...

See a lark in the far summer sky,
My darling seated at her harp I see,
Playing the while our little children sing:
The world is full of music—not for me!
...

Our graves lie closed this Easter day,
But from their rugged sod
The sweet spring grass comes softly up
With messages from God.
...

He whom she loves is far away
From her and summer trees;
Daily he toils by dying beds,
Whose woe God only sees.
...

I'm sitting in my lonely room,
But for no hastening step I wait:
(And is Tom watching for me now,
And will he weary if I'm late?)
And sweetly does my baby sleep:
I never let him see me weep.
...

There's a tramp of feet in the silent street,
A cry on the midnight air;
And men wake from sleep as the dread flames creep,
And strange steps are on the stair;
...