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Title: Sonnet To A Taper
Author: Henry Kirk White [ More Titles by White]
'Tis midnight. On the globe dead slumber sits, And all is silence--in the hour of sleep; Save when the hollow gust, that swells by fits, In the dark wood roars fearfully and deep. I wake alone to listen and to weep, To watch my taper, thy pale beacon burn; And, as still Memory does her vigils keep, To think of days that never can return. By thy pale ray I raise my languid head, My eye surveys the solitary gloom; And the sad meaning tear, unmix'd with dread, Tells thou dost light me to the silent tomb. Like thee I wane;--like thine my life's last ray Will fade in loneliness, unwept, away.
[The end] Henry Kirk White's poem: Sonnet To A Taper ________________________________________________
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