With rotting foliage red

Glimmered. The stillness of the dead,

Hark!—was it broken now

By the slow drip of tears that bled

From hidden heart or bough.

VI

Mist in the valley, mist no less

That muffled every cry

Across the soul's grey wilderness

Where faith lay down to die;

Buried beyond all hope was I,

Hope had no meaning there:

A yard above my head the sky

Could only mock at prayer.

[Pg 3]

VII

E'en as I groped along, the gloom

Suddenly shook at my feet!

O, strangely as from a rending tomb

In resurrection, sweet

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