Pray but one prayer for me 'twixt thy closed lips; Think but one thought of me up in the stars. The summer night waneth, the morning light slips, Faint and grey 'twixt the leaves of the aspen, betwixt the cloud-bars, That are patiently waiting there for the dawn: Patient and colourless, though Heaven's gold Waits to float through them along with the sun. Far out in the meadows, above the young corn, The heavy elms wait, and restless and cold The uneasy wind rises; the roses are dun; They pray the long gloom through for daylight new born, Round the lone house in the midst of the corn. Speak but one word to me over the corn, Over the tender, bow'd locks of the corn.
IN PRISON
Wearily, drearily, Half the day long, Flap the great banners High over the stone; Strangely and eerily Sounds the wind's song, Bending the banner-poles.
While, all alone, Watching the loophole's spark, Lie I, with life all dark, Feet tether'd, hands fetter'd Fast to the stone, The grim walls, square letter'd With prison'd men's groan.
Still strain the banner-poles Through the wind's song, Westward the banner rolls Over my wrong.
THE END
Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO. Edinburgh & London
Transcriber's Note
Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note, whilst archaic spellings have been retained.
Many single- and double-quotation marks were omitted in the original publication. Logical corrections, made from this text alone, would only compound any discrepancies and therefore such punctuation remains as printed.