01.01.2011, 12:47
THE AFTERNOTE OF THE HOUR.
The hour had struck, but still the air was fiU'd
With the long sequence of that mighty tone ;
A wild AEolian afternote, that thrill'd
My spirit, as I kiss'd that dear headstone ;
A voice that seem'd through all the Past to go —
From the bell's mouth the lonely cadence swept,
Like the faint cry of unassisted woe,
Till, in my profitless despair, I wept ;
My hope seem'd wTCck'd ! but soon I ceased to mourn;
A nobler meaning in that voice I found,
Whose scope lay far beyond that burial-ground ;
'Twas grief, but grief to distant glory bound !
Faith took the helm of that sweet wandering sound,
And turn'd it heavenwards, to its proper bourne.
The hour had struck, but still the air was fiU'd
With the long sequence of that mighty tone ;
A wild AEolian afternote, that thrill'd
My spirit, as I kiss'd that dear headstone ;
A voice that seem'd through all the Past to go —
From the bell's mouth the lonely cadence swept,
Like the faint cry of unassisted woe,
Till, in my profitless despair, I wept ;
My hope seem'd wTCck'd ! but soon I ceased to mourn;
A nobler meaning in that voice I found,
Whose scope lay far beyond that burial-ground ;
'Twas grief, but grief to distant glory bound !
Faith took the helm of that sweet wandering sound,
And turn'd it heavenwards, to its proper bourne.