That night a sudden storm awoke, And struck the slumbering earth to life: And, as the heavens in thunder broke, She lay exulting in the strife Of flash and peal, And gust and rain; For now, she thought: the lightning-stroke Will lay the lilac low; And he need never know How I ... and then, again, Her heart went cold with dread, As she remembered that the knife Still lay beneath the lilac tree... A blinding flash, A lull, a crash, A rattling peal... And suddenly, She felt her senses reel: And, crying out: "The knife! The knife!" Her pangs were on her... Dawn was red, When she awoke upon the bed To life--and knew her babe was dead. She rose: and cried out fearfully: "The lilac tree! The lilac tree!" Then fell back in a swoon. But, when she waked again at noon, And looked upon her sleeping child; And laid her hand upon its head, No more the mother’s heart was wild, For hate and fear were dead; And all her brooding bitterness Broke into tears of tenderness. And, not a word the father said About the lilac, lying dead. A week went by, and Whitsuntide Came round: and, as she lay, And looked upon the newborn day, Her husband, lying by her side, Spoke to her very tenderly: "Wife, ’tis again our wedding day, And we will plant a lilac tree In memory of the babe that died." They planted a white lilac tree Upon their wedding day: And, when the time of blossom came, With kindly hearts they lay. The sunlight streamed upon the bed: The scent of lilac filled the room: And, as they smelt the breathing bloom, They thought upon the dead. THE OLD MAN The boat put in at dead of night; And, when I reached the house, ’twas sleeping dark. I knew my gentlest tap would be a spark To set my home alight: My mother ever listening in her sleep For my returning step, would leap Awake with welcome; and my father’s eyes Would twinkle merrily to greet me; And my young sister would run down to meet me With sleepy sweet surprise. And yet, awhile, I lingered Upon the threshold, listening; And watched the cold stars glistening, And seemed to hear the deep Calm breathing of the house asleep-- In easy sleep, so deep, I almost feared to break it; And, even as I fingered The knocker, loth to wake it, Like some uncanny inkling Of news from otherwhere, I felt a cold breath in my hair, As though, with chin upon my shoulder, One waited hard, upon my heel, With pricking eyes of steel, Though well I knew that not a soul was there.