13fi THE NIGHT-WALK. 



Ah, woe is me ! three dreary miles 



I must ere day-break go ; 

 Alone, alone, and all alone, 



My heart was fill'd with woe. 



The heath, the lane, the dying man, 



Alone swam in my head ! 

 I saw his eyes still glare on me, 



Although I knew him dead. 



I wander'd up the forest-hill 



A race had been that day ; 

 I saw the lights gleam in white booths, 



Which in the moonshine lay. 



Ah, me ! I heard the laugh and song, 



And pensive shook my head ; 

 Sing on, thought I, ye have not been, 



Like me, to 'tend the dead. 



As on I went, I thought awhile 



Of tidings I must bear 

 To that lone widow, who for him 



Would let fall many a tear. 



Ah, me ! thought I, and thou wilt up, 



Like bird from bosky-bourn, 

 And gladly open wide thy door, 



To welcome his return. 



And yet I must the sad news tell 



My heart was beating sore ; 

 And, O, my hand struck tremblingly 



The panels of that door. 



What could it mean ? all still within 



Loudly I knock'd again ; 

 A woman from a window look'd, 



And cried, " You knock in vain." 



" You knock in vain !" What did she mean ? 



I stood in the moonlight. 

 " You knock in vain, there's no one there 



That woman died last night." 



Pensive I leant against the wall ; 



O, what a sound a thrill 

 Ran through my heart ! my trembling limbs 



Were cold, my blood ran chill ! 



" Has not her husband come ?" said she ; 



The tears gush'd from my eyes : 

 " Ah, no !" said I, " he'll come no more, 



For he is dead likewise." 



" Good God !" she cried the window clos'd, 



But no more sleep had she ; 

 I heard her husband say, <( Good God !" 



There was no soul with me. 



