Greenleaf.Through old, dim trees the moon's cold light On sloping eaves and roofs of brown Dropped trembling bare of silver white. The village slept. Love nestled close In clasping arms, and on the breast Of weary care, in deep repose,' Tired hands lay folded and at rest. The village slept, and sleeping, dreamed; But one low roof, with moss grown wall, Through whose bare panes tine moonlight streamed, Held one who slept nor dreamed at all. A hermit, on a village street, Long had he dwelt, unloved, alone; Closed was his door to passing feet; Only a dog to share his bone. And while that night the village slept, A colder and a deeper sleep At midnight to his pillow crept; With none to watch and none to weep. Morn came, and noon, and passers by Began to wonder more and more; What ailed the dog___so piteously He moaned and howled beside the door. They forced the lock at last, and then The sunlight streamed across the dead. Brown cheeks grew pale, and stalwart men Walked homeward with a heavy tread. "Greenleaf is dead!"___the whisper went From street to street. A solemn knell Peals mournfully; all stand attent, But no one weeps, while sobs the bell. No sister, wife, no child, no friend! No eyes with tender tears grow dim. A lonely life___a lonely end; What matter? It is naught to him. Again the village sleeps___the bell Hangs speechless as tine breathless night; Yet awe-struck watchers, whispering, tell Weird tales beside a form in white. __Ellen P. Allerton. |
Walls of Corn and Other Poems
Ellen P. Allerton
(Hiawatha, KS: Harrington Printing Company. 1894)
Pages 242-243
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