The snowy day was sinking down
To gloomy eve, without a star,
And winds, wild moaning from the sea,
Swept inward o'er the harbor bar.
Half dreaming, by the twilight fire,
Of vanished loves and snow-piled graves,
I sang a wind-like song that stole
From the drear waste of memory's waves.
The curtains o'er the windows fell;
The clock ticked softly on the wall;
The firelight glowed; but, in my heart,
What drifting snows enveloped all!
Still deeper grew the shadow's play;
The wind blew wilder from the sea;
When a warm hand was laid on mine,
And lo! an Angel watched with me!
A murmuring music filled the room;
The air grew sweet with springtime flowers;
The clock ticked softer on the wall,
As loth to count immortal hours.
No word the Angel spoke, but love
So tender-true was in his smile,
And on his brow such perfect peace,
That I, who sighed and wept erewhile,
Grew strong and tranquil in his glance;
It was no atmosphere for tears;
And, from his radiance, golden gleams
Illumined past and coming years.
I did not breathe a single prayer;
I did not ask for love or joy;
But all my quiet heart was full
Of trust and faith without alloy.
* * * *
Now sank the snowy evening down
To midnight gloom without a star,
And winds, wild moaning from the sea,
Swept inward o'er the harbor bar.
But neither night nor wailing wind
Could stir my soul's celestial calm;
The Angel's holy peace was mine,
And memory's waves were waves of balm!
