IN RUINS.

BY ABBA GOOLD WOOLSON.

All through the summer’s rosy hoursI built my castle fine;And not a soul should dwell therein,Save only mine and thine,My Love,In loneliness divine.No cost of make, or wealth of hueI spared from base to dome;Where lordly monarchs choose to bideThey rear a kingly home;And soThis rose like silver foam.Stand here upon the sunlit plainAnd see how fair it shines;Untaught I planned its airy towersAnd shaped its perfect lines;For loveAll excellence divines.But while I gaze, a dusky filmAcross its splendor falls;My purples and my gold are dim—What ails the reeling walls?What doomSends terror through its halls?The keen air sweeps adown the hill:Give me a hand to hold;I shiver in these breezes chillThat grow so fierce and bold,Yet heartsMay laugh at Winter’s cold.That hand of thine, so fair and strong,I thought could clasp me warm;It melts within my burning graspLike touch of ghostly form;I hearNo heart-beat through the storm.Great winds from out the heavens leap;No castle-dome appears;Rain dashes on mine upturned face,To quench the hope of years:Pour, floods;Yet faster flow my tears.

All through the summer’s rosy hoursI built my castle fine;And not a soul should dwell therein,Save only mine and thine,My Love,In loneliness divine.

All through the summer’s rosy hours

I built my castle fine;

And not a soul should dwell therein,

Save only mine and thine,

My Love,

In loneliness divine.

No cost of make, or wealth of hueI spared from base to dome;Where lordly monarchs choose to bideThey rear a kingly home;And soThis rose like silver foam.

No cost of make, or wealth of hue

I spared from base to dome;

Where lordly monarchs choose to bide

They rear a kingly home;

And so

This rose like silver foam.

Stand here upon the sunlit plainAnd see how fair it shines;Untaught I planned its airy towersAnd shaped its perfect lines;For loveAll excellence divines.

Stand here upon the sunlit plain

And see how fair it shines;

Untaught I planned its airy towers

And shaped its perfect lines;

For love

All excellence divines.

But while I gaze, a dusky filmAcross its splendor falls;My purples and my gold are dim—What ails the reeling walls?What doomSends terror through its halls?

But while I gaze, a dusky film

Across its splendor falls;

My purples and my gold are dim—

What ails the reeling walls?

What doom

Sends terror through its halls?

The keen air sweeps adown the hill:Give me a hand to hold;I shiver in these breezes chillThat grow so fierce and bold,Yet heartsMay laugh at Winter’s cold.

The keen air sweeps adown the hill:

Give me a hand to hold;

I shiver in these breezes chill

That grow so fierce and bold,

Yet hearts

May laugh at Winter’s cold.

That hand of thine, so fair and strong,I thought could clasp me warm;It melts within my burning graspLike touch of ghostly form;I hearNo heart-beat through the storm.

That hand of thine, so fair and strong,

I thought could clasp me warm;

It melts within my burning grasp

Like touch of ghostly form;

I hear

No heart-beat through the storm.

Great winds from out the heavens leap;No castle-dome appears;Rain dashes on mine upturned face,To quench the hope of years:Pour, floods;Yet faster flow my tears.

Great winds from out the heavens leap;

No castle-dome appears;

Rain dashes on mine upturned face,

To quench the hope of years:

Pour, floods;

Yet faster flow my tears.

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