Henry Abbey

Stories in Verse Henry Abbey

Book Excerpthe liquid dark; And a fire-fly, perched upon it, Shone out its fitful spark. I fancied it a light-houseMooned on a sky-like sea, To warn the fearless sailorsOf lurking treachery--Of unseen reefs and shallowsThat starved for wrecks to be. O Blanche, O love that spurns me, 'Tis but a cheat thou art. I would some friendly light-houseHad warned me to departFrom the secret reefs and shallowsThat hide about your heart. XV. DARKNESS. My hopes and my ambition all were down, Like grass the mower turneth from its place; The night's thick darkness was an angry frown, And earth a tear upon the cheek of space. The mighty fiend of storm in wild unrest, By lightning stabbed, dragged slowly up the plain; Great clots of light, like blood, dripped down his breast, And from his open jaws fell foam in rain. XVI. IN THE CHURCH-YARD. Where