A Prisoner of Hope

To sit and watch in the lonely house1
                        
                        Whence others have risen and gone their 
way—2
                        
                        way—2
So hush’d and still that the wainscot mouse3
                        
                        Creeps out on my hearth to play :4
                        
                        
                        To hear the hurrying folk go by,5
                        
                        Their echoing feet the silence fill—6
                        
                        The world is busy enough, but I7
                        
                        In the midst of it all sit still !8
                        
To wait, tho’ the tide runs far and fast,9
                        
                        To share the story yet turn no page,10
                        
                        To dwell in the hearth of a vanished Past11
                        
                        With friends of a bygone age :12
                        
                        The living about me come and go,13
                        
                        But these have done with earth’s toils and 
tears,14
                        
                        tears,14
And I follow with faltering step and slow,15
                        
                        In the wake of the tedious years.16
                        A broken weapon that’s flung aside,17
                        
                        A worn-out tool for which none need care—18
                        
                        Sometimes I fancy I must have died19
                        
                        And that only a ghost sits there !20
                        
                        Yet the Dead no longer can feel the strain21
                        
                        Of the nerveless hand and the powerless 
limb,22
                        
                        limb,22
And the weariness even worse than pain23
                        
                        That comes when Life’s lamp burns dim !24
                        Often I think the hour of dawn,25
                        
                        When the faint light glimmers on wall 
and floor,26
                        
                        and floor,26
And the curtains of night are half withdrawn,27
                        
                        Is the worst in the twenty-four !28
                        
                        How long will it be ere the tardy gleam29
                        
                        Of sunset fires the golden west ?30
                        
                        Is is less hard then just to watch and dream31
                        
                        When even the toilers rest.32
                        And when stars come out o’er the twilight sea33
                        
                        There falls on my soul a peace profound,34
                        
                        As I think of a Hand that once set free35
                        
                        The Spirits in Prison bound :36
                        
                        One day He will burst these bonds of mine—37
                        
                        And perchance there is good work yet un-
done38
                        
                        done38
He is keeping for me in His Love divine39
                        
                        In the Land beyond the Sun !40