Volume 5 — From All the Year Round. Looking Down The Road.

In the early spring-time My long watch began; Through the daisied meadows Merry children ran; Happy lovers wandered Through the forest deep, Seeking mossy corners Where the violets sleep. I in one small chamber Patiently abode— At my garret window Looking down the road. Watching, watching, watching, For what came not back! Summer marked in flowers All her sunny track, Hid the dim blue distance With her robe of green, Bathed the nearer meadows In a golden sheen. Full the fierce sure arrows Glanced and gleamed and glowed On my garret window Looking down the road. Watching, watching, watching, Oh! the pain of hope! Autumn's shadows lengthened On the breezy slope; Groups of tired reapers Led the loaded wains From the golden meadows, Through the dusky lanes; Home-returning footsteps O'er the pathway strode— Not the one I looked for. Coming down the road.

Winter stripped the branches Of the roadside tree: But the frosty hours Brought no change for me— Save that I could better, Through the branches brown. See the tired travellers Coming from the town. Pitiless December Rained and hailed and snowed. On my garret window Looking down the road. At the last I saw it (Not the form I sought), Something brighter, purer, Blessed my sleeping thought. 'Twas a white-robed angel— At his steadfast eyes Paled the wild-fire brightness Of old memories. Nearer drew the vision, While with bated breath Some one seemed to whisper, The Deliverer, "Death." Then my dreaming spirit, Eased of half its load, Saw the white wings lessen Down the dusty road. God has soothed my sorrow, He has purged my sin; Earthly hopes have perished— Heavenly rest I win. Dull and dead endurance Is no portion here; I am strong to labor, And my rest is near. Lifting my dull glances From the fields below, So the light of heaven Settles on my brow. O my God. I thank thee, Who that angel showed, From my garret window Looking down the road.