Page:Carroll - Phantasmagoria and other poems (1869).djvu/186

174 The very heart from out my breast
 * I plucked, I gave it willingly:
 * Her very heart she gave to me—

Then died the glory from the west.

In the gray light I saw her face,
 * And it was withered, old, and gray;

The flowers were fading in their place,
 * Were fading with the fading day.

Forth from her, like a hunted deer,
 * Through all that ghastly night I fled,

And still behind me seemed to hear
 * Her fierce unflagging tread:

And scarce drew breath for fear.

Yet marked I well how strangely seemed
 * The heart within my breast to sleep:

Silent it lay, or so I dreamed,
 * With never a throb nor leap.