Page:Verses–Blanche·Baughan-1898.pdf/81



AT this lock’d door of past delights, Towards my tranquil singing cell, My minstrel days, and minstrel nights, Turning, I pause to say “Farewell!” O dawns of dewy grey, that broke On throstles singing in the dark! O firelit evenings, when what spark Fell! and what long-dead flame awoke, What prison’d bird within me sang Till in my heart the rafters rang! Silence creeps close; once more the drowsy spell Falls—falls. O swift and sudden Song, farewell!

Farewell, dear neighbours, ten days past Unhoped—by your quick courtesies, Your swift upleaping sympathies, Bound now unto Regret, how fast! To all the faithful homely care