ADELAIDE PROCTER.
_THE SPIRIT BRIDE_.
You told me you loved me, and vowed of old,
When you reached that land of jasper and gold,
To me you’d return in the hush of night,
And show me a glimpse of your land of light.
I sit in the shadows, and wearily wait
To see you throw open the starry gate:
Through my golden ringlets the chill winds blow,
While I watch your coming through falling snow.
How long must I wait? Are you ling’ring where
The blue-eyed angels your sweet kisses share?
Is your home so radiant that never more
Your steps will be heard at my lowly door?
Ah! what do I see through my blinding tears?—What
misty form through the tempest appears?
A cold hand now touches my burning brow,
A low voice whispers, “I am near thee now.”
Bend low—let me kiss thee, thou viewless thing;
No rising passion thy cold lips bring;
But hushed is the throb of my burning heart
As upward he bears me—no more to part.
THE END.