I DREAM that the dearest I ever knew Has died and been entombed. I am sure it’s a dream that cannot be true, But I am so overgloomed By its persistence, that I would gladly Have quick death take me, Rather than longer think thus sadly; So wake me, wake me!
It has lasted days, but minute and hour I expect to get aroused And find him as usual in the bower Where we so happily housed. Yet stays this nightmare too appalling, And like a web shakes me, And piteously I keep on calling, And no one wakes me!
“WHAT do you see in that time-touched stone, When nothing is there But ashen blankness, although you give it A rigid stare?
“You look not quite as if you saw, But as if you heard, Parting your lips, and treading softly As mouse or bird.
“It is only the base of a pillar, they’ll tell you, That came to us From a far old hill men used to name Areopagus.”
—“I know no art, and I only view A stone from a wall, But I am thinking that stone has echoed The voice of Paul,
“Paul as he stood and preached beside it Facing the crowd, A small gaunt figure with wasted features, Calling out loud
“Words that in all their intimate accents Pattered upon That marble front, and were far reflected, And then were gone.
“I’m a labouring man, and know but little, Or nothing at all; But I can’t help thinking that stone once echoed The voice of Paul.”
“MAN, you too, aren’t you, one of these rough followers of the criminal? All hanging hereabout to gather how he’s going to bear Examination in the hall.” She flung disdainful glances on The shabby figure standing at the fire with others there, Who warmed them by its flare.
“No indeed, my skipping maiden: I know nothing of the trial here, Or criminal, if so he be.—I chanced to come this way, And the fire shone out into the dawn, and morning airs are cold now; I, too, was drawn in part by charms I see before me play, That I see not every day.”
“Ha, ha!” then laughed the constables who also stood to warm themselves, The while another maiden scrutinized his features hard, As the blaze threw into contrast every line and knot that wrinkled them, Exclaiming, “Why, last night when he was brought in by the guard, You were with him in the yard!”
“Nay, nay, you teasing wench, I say! You know you speak mistakenly. Cannot a tired pedestrian who has footed it afar Here on his way from northern parts, engrossed in humble marketings, Come in and rest awhile, although judicial doings are Afoot by morning star?”