Menken, Adah Isaacs
|DRIFTS THAT BAR MY DOOR.|
Oh, is this all?
Is there nothing more of life?68See how dark and cold my cell.
The pictures on the walls are covered with mould.
The earth-floor is slimy with my washing blood.
The embers are smouldering in the ashes.
The lamp is dimly flickering, and will soon starve for
oil in this horrid gloom.
My wild eyes paint the shadows on the walls.
And I hear the poor ghost of my lost love moaning and
Shrieks of my unhappiness are borne to me on the
wings of the wind.
I sit covering in fear, with my tattered garments close
around my choking throat.
I move my pale lips to pray; but my soul has lost her
Faith is weak.
Hope has laid her whitened corse upon my bosom.
The lamp sinks lower and lower. O angels! sweep
the drifts away--unbar my door!