Page:The torrent and The night before.djvu/23

 Alas! I said,—the world is in the wrong.— But the same quenchless fever of unrest That thrilled the foremost of that martyred throng Thrilled me, and I awoke and was the same Bewildered insect plunging for the flame That burns, and must burn somehow for the best.

THE HOUSE ON THE HILL are all gone away, The House is shut and still, There is nothing more to say.

Through broken walls and gray The winds blow bleak and shrill; They are all gone away.

Nor is there one to-day To speak them good or ill: There is nothing more to say.

Why is it then we stray Around that sunken sill? They are all gone away,

And our poor fancy-play For them is wasted skill: There is nothing more to say.

There is ruin and decay In the House on the Hill: They are all gone away, There is nothing more to say.

THE WILDERNESS away! come away! there's a frost along the marshes, And a frozen wind that skims the shoal where it shakes the dead black water; There's a moan across the lowland and a wailing through the woodland