VIII.

When you wake from troubled slumbers

With a dream-bewildered brain,

And old leaves which no man numbers

Chattering tap against the pane;

And the midnight wind is wailing

Till your very life seems quailing

As the long gusts shudder and sigh:

Know you not that homeless cry

Is my love's, which cannot die,

Wailing through Eternity?

When beside the glowing embers,

Sitting in the twilight lone,

Drop on drop you hear November's

Melancholy monotone,

As the heavy rain comes sweeping,

With a sound of weeping, weeping,

Till your blood is chilled with fears;

Know you not those falling tears,

Flowing fast through years on years,

For my sobs within your ears?

When with dolorous moan the billows

Surge around where, far and wide,

Leagues on leagues of sea-worn hollows

Throb with thunders of the tide,

And the weary waves in breaking

Fill you, thrill you, as with aching

Memories of our love of yore

Where you pace the sounding shore,

Hear you not, through roll and roar,

Soul call soul for evermore?