THE WELCOME HOME.
Above the city hangs the moon, Some clouds are boding rain;Gilbert, erewhile on journey gone, To-night comes home again.
Ten years have passed above his head, Each year has brought him gain ;His prosperous life has smoothly sped, Without or tear or stain.
'Tis somewhat late--the city clocks Twelve deep vibrations toll, As Gilbert at the portal knocks, Which is his journey's goal.
The street is still and desolate, The moon hid by a cloud;Gilbert, impatient, will not wait,--
His second knock peals loud.
The clocks are hushed--there's not a light In any window nigh, And not a single planet bright Looks from the clouded sky;The air is raw, the rain descends, A bitter north-wind blows;His cloak the traveller scarce defends--
Will not the door unclose?
He knocks the third time, and the last His summons now they hear, Within, a footstep, hurrying fast, Is heard approaching near.
The bolt is drawn, the clanking chain Falls to the floor of stone;And Gilbert to his heart will strain His wife and children soon.
The hand that lifts the latchet, holds A candle to his sight, And Gilbert, on the step, beholds A woman, clad in white.
Lo! water from her dripping dress Runs on the streaming floor;From every dark and clinging tress The drops incessant pour.
There's none but her to welcome him;She holds the candle high, And, motionless in form and limb, Stands cold and silent nigh;There's sand and sea-weed on her robe, Her hollow eyes are blind;No pulse in such a frame can throb, No life is there defined.
Gilbert turned ashy-white, but still His lips vouchsafed no cry;He spurred his strength and master-will To pass the figure by,--
But, moving slow, it faced him straight, It would not flinch nor quail:
Then first did Gilbert's strength abate, His stony firmness quail.
He sank upon his knees and prayed The shape stood rigid there;He called aloud for human aid, No human aid was near.
An accent strange did thus repeat Heaven's stern but just decree:
"The measure thou to her didst mete, To thee shall measured be!"