Volume Iii Part 67 (2/2)

Bright-eyed beauty once was she, When the bloom was on the tree;-- Spring and winter, Hannah's at the window, binding shoes.

Not a neighbor Pa.s.sing, nod or answer will refuse To her whisper, ”Is there from the fishers any news?”

Oh, her heart's adrift with one On an endless voyage gone;-- Night and morning, Hannah's at the window, binding shoes.

Fair young Hannah, Ben, the sunburnt fisher, gaily wooes; Hale and clever, For a willing heart and hand he sues.

May-day skies are all aglow, And the waves are laughing so!

For her wedding Hannah leaves her window and her shoes.

May is pa.s.sing; 'Mid the apple-boughs a pigeon cooes: Hannah shudders, For the mild south-wester mischief brews.

Round the rocks of Marblehead, Outward bound, a schooner sped; Silent, lonesome, Hannah's at the window, binding shoes.

'Tis November: Now no tear her wasted cheek bedews, From Newfoundland Not a sail returning will she lose, Whispering hoa.r.s.ely: ”Fishermen, Have you, have you heard of Ben?”

Old with watching, Hannah's at the window, binding shoes.

Twenty winters Bleak and drear the ragged sh.o.r.e she views.

Twenty seasons:-- Never one has brought her any news.

Still her dim eyes silently Chase the white sails o'er the sea;-- Hopeless, faithful, Hannah's at the window, binding shoes.

Lucy Larcom [1824-1893]

THE SAILOR A Romaic Ballad

Thou that hast a daughter For one to woo and wed, Give her to a husband With snow upon his head; Oh, give her to an old man, Though little joy it be, Before the best young sailor That sails upon the sea!

How luckless is the sailor When sick and like to die; He sees no tender mother, No sweetheart standing by.

Only the captain speaks to him,-- Stand up, stand up, young man, And steer the s.h.i.+p to haven, As none beside thee can.

Thou says't to me, ”Stand, stand up”; I say to thee, take hold, Lift me a little from the deck, My hands and feet are cold.

And let my head, I pray thee, With handkerchiefs be bound; There, take my love's gold handkerchief, And tie it tightly round.

Now bring the chart, the doleful chart; See, where these mountains meet-- The clouds are thick around their head, The mists around their feet: Cast anchor here; 'tis deep and safe Within the rocky cleft; The little anchor on the right, The great one on the left.

And now to thee, O captain, Most earnestly I pray, That they may never bury me In church or cloister gray;-- But on the windy sea-beach, At the ending of the land, All on the surly sea-beach, Deep down into the sand.

For there will come the sailors, Their voices I shall hear, And at casting of the anchor The yo-ho loud and clear; And at hauling of the anchor The yo-ho and the cheer,-- Farewell, my love, for to thy bay I never more may steer!

William Allingham [1824-1889]

THE BURIAL OF THE DANE

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