I SEE in the forest coverts
The sheen of shimmering lights;
They gleam from the dusky shadows,
They flash from the ghostly heights:
No lights of the tranquil homestead
Or the hostel warm are they;
But warring flames of the Titan fire
Which stormed through the woods to-day.
Each darts with an aimless passion,
Or sinks into lurid rest
Like the crest of a wounded serpent drooped
On the scales of its treacherous breast.
Let them idly dart and quiver,
Or sink into lurid rest--
Above, like a child-saint's face in heaven,
There's a sole, sweet star in the west.
Ah! slowly the. earth-lights wither;
But the star, like a saintly face,
Shines on, with the steadfast strength of peace,
In its God-appointed place.
