Page:Carroll - Phantasmagoria and other poems (1869).djvu/205

Rh Awake, awake! The moments fly;
 * This awful tryst may be the last.

And see! The tear that dimmed her eye
 * Had fallen on him ere she passed—

She passed; the crimson paled to gray: And hope departed with the day.

The heavy hours of night went by,
 * And silence quickened into sound,

And light slid up the eastern, sky,
 * And life began its daily round—

But life and light for him were fled: His name was numbered with the dead.