The Midnight Banner

Once upon a night of sorrow,Sat I waiting for the morrow,With my hand upon my forehead,And a grief upon my heart;One I loved had rashly spokenWords by which our hearts are broken—Fatal words, of bitter meaning,Such as force our souls apart;And I sat in tearless sorrowTill the midnight should depart.

Then, to cool the fever burningLike a flame my forehead, turningTo the closely-curtained window,I had drawn the folds aside;When I saw, all bathed in moonlight,Floating in the face of midnight,Like a robed and winged spirit,A dark banner, long and wide,Streaming out upon the night-windIn its lone and solemn pride.

With a motion slow and even,Up against the starry heaven,Floated that mysterious banner;Like a proud and mournful soul,Brooding o'er a sorrow hiddenIn a heart-cell, which, unbidden,Human eye may ne'er discover—Human love may not console;Sadly and in silence mourningFate which nothing can control.

Like a disembodied spirit,The wan moon was hovering near it,With a face all dim and pallid,Just above the banner's height;While it kept its murmuring motion,Like a wave upon the ocean,Or a sigh within a bosomStruggling back from human sight;Heedless of the spirit sheddingRound it her caressing light.

Long I gazed, almost forgettingMy own grieving and regretting,On that dark, mysterious banner,Floating on the midnight wind;And I borrowed from its seemingThoughts in that strange hour of dreaming,That have left undying tokensOf themselves upon my mind;And my spirit gathered from themKnowledge holy and refined.

All the wildness of my madnessAltered to a calmer sadness—Under that dim banner marshaled,Memory viewed her countless host;And my soul looked on confessing,With a murmured prayer and blessing,Each endearing reminiscenceIn the tide of passion lost;And a thrill of hope and gladnessMy tumultuous bosom crossed.

Then the banner, like my spirit,Ceased to waver, and more near itRode the pale moon, slow descendingTo the chambers of the west;And then for one blissful minute,The dark banner held within itThe pale spirit's lovely vision,Like a face within a breast;And I knew by that sweet omenI should be forgiven and blessed.