Why did you give no hint that night
That quickly after the morrow's dawn,
And calmly, as if indifferent quite,
You would close your term here, up and be gone
Around the house the flakes fly faster,
And all the berries now are gone
From holly and cotoneaster
Around the house. The flakes fly!--faster
Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.
"Now they are all on their knees,"
An elder said as we sat in a flock
A shaded lamp and a waving blind,
And the beat of a clock from a distant floor:
In a solitude of the sea
Deep from human vanity,
And the Pride of Life that planned her, stilly couches she.
They hail me as one living,
But don't they know
That I have died of late years,
Somewhere afield here something lies
In Earth's oblivious eyeless trust
That moved a poet to prophecies -
A pinch of unseen, unguarded dust
UPON a noon I pilgrimed through
A pasture, mile by mile,
Unto the place where I last saw
My dead Love's living smile.
Attentive eyes, fantastic heed,
Assessing minds, he does not need,
Nor urgent writs to sup or dine,
Nor pledges in the roseate wine.
As 'legal representative'
I read a missive not my own,
On new designs the senders give
For clothes, in tints as shown.