Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
***Sometimes when ev'ning lamps are ebbing low And all the earth lies hushed in solemn sleep Within my lonely heart there burns a glow, As lengthening shadows about me creep. My weary glance falls o'er the dismal room Where with rapturous eyes I seem to see Beyond thick cobwebs, dust and direst gloom A merry host of friends-my own library! Worn musty books on shelves from olden days, Brittle pages yellowed by hands of time, Illuminating night with gladsome rays, Lifting my bleak spirit to realms sublime. Trooping merrily before my rapt gaze Into flick'ring lamplight I watch them come, Quaint men and ladies of forgotten days; Golden laughter echoing in my home. Into my eyes they smile, murm'ring with grace Aerial speech they blithely chat with me, They seem to belong to another race Wakening in my heart sweet melody. Dying lamplight sputters and they are gone. Vanished! I stare about but find I none Save a drowsy thrush flutes with hush of dawn Only myself in the parlour alone.*** ~Hilda~
0
Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 10:50 PM UTC
My Library
***Sometimes when ev'ning lamps are ebbing low And all the earth lies hushed in solemn sleep Within my lonely heart there burns a glow, As lengthening shadows about me creep. My weary glance falls o'er the dismal room Where with rapturous eyes I seem to see Beyond thick cobwebs, dust and direst gloom A merry host of friends-my own library! Worn musty books on shelves from olden days, Brittle pages yellowed by hands of time, Illuminating night with gladsome rays, Lifting my bleak spirit to realms sublime. Trooping merrily before my rapt gaze Into flick'ring lamplight I watch them come, Quaint men and ladies of forgotten days; Golden laughter echoing in my home. Into my eyes they smile, murm'ring with grace Aerial speech they blithely chat with me, They seem to belong to another race Wakening in my heart sweet melody. Dying lamplight sputters and they are gone. Vanished! I stare about but find I none Save a drowsy thrush flutes with hush of dawn Only myself in the parlour alone.*** ~Hilda~
© Hilda December 9, 2012
hilda
Written by
Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 10:50 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem