The Captive

When gloaming droops
To the raven's croak,
And the nightjar churs
From his time-gnarled oak
In the thunder-stricken wood:

When the drear dark waters
'Neath sallows hoar
Shake the veils of night
With their hollow roar,
Plunging deep in flood;

Spectral, wan
From unquiet rest,
A phantom walks
With anguished breast,
Doomed to love's solitude.

Her footstep is leaf-like,
Light as air,
Her raiment scarce stirs
The gossamer
While from shadowy hood

In the wood-light pale
Her dream-ridden eyes,
Without sorrow or tear,
Speculation, surmise,
Wildly, insanely brood.
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