XXXII. 'Thou only wert my hope, and thou art gone' Poem by Robert Silliman Hillyer

Thou only wert my hope, and thou art gone.
Thou, the one star in monotones of sky,
Art vanished like a meteor, and I,
Lost in the night, have ceased to pray for dawn.
I watched thee fade, I saw thee passing by
And tried to call thee, but my lips were dumb;
It had been better hadst thou never come,—
Remembered riches mock my poverty.

Blow from afar the little sounds of bells,
Wood-smoke hangs thinly on the autumn air,
The town's unconscious hush is like a prayer,
And night sleeps pleasantly among the dells;
I only wander on, and know not where,
Through the great dark, pursued by faint farewells.