  O, a morbid fancy had David Bell, That over his path like a wizard spell, A great, black shadow forever fell. He turned his back on the sun’s clear ray; From a singing bird, or a child at play, With a nervous shudder he shrank away; And he shook his head, As he gloomily said, “This shadow will haunt me till I am dead!” In the solemn shade of the forest wide, Or in the churchyard at eventide, Like a gloomy ghost he was seen to glide. There, nursing his fancies all alone, He would sit him down with a dismal moan, In the dewy grass by some moss-grown stone, And shake his head, As he gloomily said, “This shadow will haunt me till I am dead! Never a nod or a smile would greet Old David Bell, in the field or street, From the sturdy yeoman he chanced to meet. The children fled from his path away, And the good wives whispered, “Alack a day! The Devil hath led his soul astray!” For he ever said, As he shook his head, “This shadow will haunt me till I am dead!” One Sabbath morn when the air was balm, And the green earth smiled with a heavenly charm, In the peaceful hush, in the holy calm, Old David Bell, with a new intent, Across the bridge o’er the mill-stream went, And his steps towards the village chapel bent. For he said, “I will try From this fiend to fly, And escape the shadow before I die!” But all along on the sandy road, His great, gaunt shadow before him strode, Like a fiend escaped from its dark abode. Sometimes it crouched in an angle small, Then up it leapt, like a giant tall; And as David noticed these changes all, As he gloomily said, “This shadow will haunt me till I am dead!” At length, he came to the chapel door, But the great, gaunt shadow went in before, Leaping and dancing along the floor. Old David mournfully turned away— He could not enter to praise and pray, While that impish shadow before him lay. And he shook his head, As he gloomily said, “This shadow will haunt me till I am dead!” He wandered away, not heeding where, To a lonely grave, where a willow fair Whispered sweet words to the summer air. But he saw not the long, lithe branches wave, For only a weary look he gave At his own black shadow, across the grave. And he shook his head, As he gloomily said, “This shadow will haunt me till I am dead!” “Nay, nay, good David!” a voice replied. He turned him quickly, and close by his side Stood old Goody Gay, known far and wide. And changed the gold of her locks to gray, Her face was bright as the summer day. “Don’t shake your head!” She cheerfully said, “But face the sunshine, good man, instead!” With a hopeless look, and a sigh profound, He sat himself down by the grassy mound, Where the bright-eyed daisies grew thick around. “Nay, leave me,” he said, in a sullen tone, “For I and the shadow would be alone; No balm of healing for me is known. It will be as I said, This thing that I dread, This shadow, will haunt me till I am dead.” The good dame answered, “O, David Bell! Why will ye be ringing your own heart’s knell? For I tell ye this, that I know full well— The blessÉd Father, who loves us all, Who notices even a sparrow’s fall, Is never deaf to His children’s call; His love is our light In the darkest night: Just turn to that sunshine, and all is right. “In this very grave did I lay to rest, With his pale hands folded upon his breast, The one of all others I loved the best. And then, though my heart in its anguish yearned, My face to the sunshine I ever turned, And thus a great lesson of life I learned; Which you, too, will find, If you will but mind, That thus, all life’s shadows are cast behind.” He gazed in her earnest face as she spoke, And then a light o’er his features broke, As if new life in his soul awoke. There was something so bright in that summer day, And the cheerful language of Goody Gay, That his morbid fancies were charmed away; And he said, “I will try, For it may be, that I Shall escape this shadow before I die.” He turned him around on the grassy knoll, And flush o’er his forehead and into his soul The warmth of the gladdening sunshine stole. The good dame lifted a willow bough, And gently laid her hand on his brow— “Say, David, where is your shadow now? But ye are not dead. Look up to the sunshine, man! Hold up your head!” Still athwart the grave did the shadow lay, But the face of David was turned away, And lifted up to the sun’s clear ray. Then the light of truth on his sp |
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