Children of the Night

Amaryllis

     Once, when I wandered in the woods alone,
     An old man tottered up to me and said,
     "Come, friend, and see the grave that I have made
     For Amaryllis."  There was in the tone
     Of his complaint such quaver and such moan
     That I took pity on him and obeyed,
     And long stood looking where his hands had laid
     An ancient woman, shrunk to skin and bone.

     Far out beyond the forest I could hear
     The calling of loud progress, and the bold
     Incessant scream of commerce ringing clear;
     But though the trumpets of the world were glad,
     It made me lonely and it made me sad
     To think that Amaryllis had grown old.