ON JUDGES’ WALK.

THAT night on Judges’ Walk the wind

Was as the voice of doom;

The heath, a lake of darkness, lay

As silent as the tomb.

The vast night brooded, white with stars,

Above the world's unrest;

The awfulness of silence ached

Like a strong heart repressed.

That night we walked beneath the trees,

Alone, beneath the trees;

There was some word we could not say

Half uttered in the breeze.

That night on Judges’ Walk we said

No word of all we had to say;

But now there shall be no word said

Before the Judge's Day.