THE SPIRIT CALL

(_Celtic myth: "The ghosts of Fathers, they say, call away the souls
of their race, while they behold them lonely in the midst of woe."
"Erin's clouds are hung 'round with ghosts."_--OSSIAN.)

I go: my father's spirit calls!
From his gray cloud beholding,
He sees how thickly sorrow falls,
My lonely path enfolding.

So near he comes: I see him well:
He beckons, smiling, pleading!
I cannot in this sad world dwell,
When he is drawing, leading.

My heart is sore, he loves me dear,
My soul is weary, weary!
Father, I come, naught holds me here:
Thou lov'st, and life is dreary!

Bend lower, cloud, his spirit's home,
My helpless form to cover!
A gasp, a sigh, one faint, low breath,
And all life's woes are over.