Page:The ascent of man by Blind, Mathilde.djvu/185

Rh

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,