Sophie Margaret Hensley

The light has left the hill-side. Yesterday
These skies shewed blue against the dusky trees,
The leaves' soft murmur in the evening breeze
...

The full-orbed Paschal moon; dark shadows flung
On the brown Lenten earth; tall spectral trees
Stand in their huge and naked strength erect,
...

'Pourquoi,' she breathed, then drooped her head,
(Pure snow-drifts to the sunset wed)
As all my weakness I confessed.
...

My boat is still in the reedy cove
Where the rushes hinder its onward course,
For I care not now if we rest or move
...

I aimless wandered thro' the woods, and flung
My idle limbs upon a soft brown bank,
Where, thickly strewn, the worn-out russet leaves
...

There is no God? If one should stand at noon
Where the glow rests, and the warm sunlight plays,
Where earth is gladdened by the cordial rays
...

The world may rage without,
Quiet is here;
Statesmen may toil and shout,
Cynics may sneer;
...

The sky, grown dull through many waiting days,
Flashed into crimson with the sunrise charm,
So all my love, aroused to vague alarm,
...

When summer comes, and when o'er hill and lea
The sun's strong wooing glow hath patiently
Shed o'er the earth long days his golden dower,
...

When summer comes, and when o'er hill and lea
The sun's strong wooing glow hath patiently
Shed o'er the earth long days his golden dower,
...

A breath | A breath
And a sigh,-- | And a sigh,--
How we fly | How we fly
From Death! | From Death!--
...

Oh come, Eurydice!
The Stygian deeps are past
Well-nigh; the light dawns fast.
Oh come, Eurydice!
...

For our Love's sake I bid thee stay,
Sweet, ere the hours flee away,
Beneath the old acacia tree
That waves its blossoms quiveringly,
...

What of our life when this frail flesh lies low
A withered clod, and the free soul has burst
Through the world-fetters? Not of souls accursed
...

I will forget those days of mingled bliss
And dear delicious pain,--will cast from me
All dreams of what I know can never be,
...

It might have been so different a year
To what _has_ been; the summer's guileless play
Not all a jest, comes back to me to-day
...

No ripple stirs the water,
No song-bird wakes the grove,
Calm noon-tide sways his sceptre,
And hushes even love.
...

My spirit holds you, Dear,
Though worlds away,'--
This to their absent ones
Many can say.
...

The world to-day is radiant, as I ne'er
Could picture it in wildest dreaming, when
For long, long hours I lay in flowery glen
...

Evening has thrown her hushing garment round
This little world; no harsh or jarring sound
Disturbs my reverie. The room is dark,
...