THE GHOST'S PETITION.

“There's a footstep coming: look out and see.” —

“The leaves are falling, the wind is calling;

No one cometh across the lea.” —

“There's a footstep coming: O sister, look.” —

“The ripple flashes, the white foam dashes;

No one cometh across the brook.” —

“But he promised that he would come:

To-night, to-morrow, in joy or sorrow,

He must keep his word, and must come home.

“For he promised that he would come:

His word was given; from earth or heaven,

He must keep his word, and must come home.

“Go to sleep, my sweet sister Jane;

You can slumber, who need not number

Hour after hour, in doubt and pain.

“I shall sit here awhile, and watch;

Listening, hoping, for one hand groping

In deep shadow to find the latch.”

After the dark, and before the light,

One lay sleeping; and one sat weeping,

Who had watched and wept the weary night.

After the night, and before the day,

One lay sleeping; and one sat weeping,—

Watching, weeping for one away.

There came a footstep climbing the stair;

Some one standing out on the landing

Shook the door like a puff of air,—

Shook the door, and in he passed.

Did he enter? In the room centre

Stood her husband: the door shut fast.

“O Robin, but you are cold,—

Chilled with the night-dew: so lily-white you

Look like a stray lamb from our fold.

“O Robin, but you are late:

Come and sit near me,— sit here and cheer me.” —

( Blue the flame burnt in the grate. )

“Lay not down your head on my breast:

I cannot hold you, kind wife, nor fold you

In the shelter that you love best.

“Feel not after my clasping hand:

I am but a shadow, come from the meadow

Where many lie, but no tree can stand.

“We are trees which have shed their leaves:

Our heads lie low there, but no tears flow there;

Only I grieve for my wife who grieves.

“I could rest if you would not moan

Hour after hour; I have no power

To shut my ears where I lie alone.

“I could rest if you would not cry;

But there's no sleeping while you sit weeping,—

Watching, weeping so bitterly.” —

“Woe's me! woe's me! for this I have heard.

O, night of sorrow!— O, black to-morrow!

Is it thus that you keep your word?

“O you who used so to shelter me

Warm from the least wind,— why, now the east wind

Is warmer than you, whom I quake to see.

“O my husband of flesh and blood,

For whom my mother I left, and brother,

And all I had, accounting it good,

“What do you do there, underground,

In the dark hollow? I'm fain to follow.

What do you do there?— what have you found?” —

“What I do there I must not tell;

But I have plenty. Kind wife, content ye:

It is well with us,— it is well.

“Tender hand hath made our nest;

Our fear is ended, our hope is blended

With present pleasure, and we have rest.” —

“O, but Robin, I'm fain to come,

If your present days are so pleasant;

For my days are so wearisome.

“Yet I'll dry my tears for your sake:

Why should I tease you, who cannot please you

Any more with the pains I take?”