Page:Pocahontas and Other Poems (NY).pdf/112



wrapp'd in shades Olive and terebinth, its vaulted door Fleck'd with the untrain'd vine and matted grass, Behold Macpelah's cave. Hark! hear we not A voice of weeping? Lo, yon aged man Bendeth beside his dead. Wave after wave Of memory rises, till his lonely heart Sees all its treasures floating on the flood, Like rootless weeds. The earliest dawn of love Is present with him, and a form of grace, Whose beauty held him ever in its thrall: And then, the morn of marriage, gorgeous robes, And dulcet music, and the rites that bless The Eastern bride. Full many a glowing scene, Made happy by her tenderness, returns To mock his solitude, as the sharp lance Severs the quivering nerve. His quiet home Gleams through the oaks of Mamre. There he sat, Rendering due rites of hospitality To guests who bore the folded wing of Heaven Beneath their vestments. And her smile was there, Among the angels. When her clustering curls Wore Time's chill hoar.frost, with what glad surprise,