Part 6 (1/2)

LORRAINE--1870

ANON.

I

Sweetly the June-time twilights wane Over the hills of fair Lorraine,

Sweetly the mellow moonbeams fall O'er rose-wreathed cottage and ivied wall.

But never dawned a brighter eve, Than the holy night of St. Genevieve.

And never moonlight fairer fell, Over the banks of the blue Moselle.

Richly the silver splendor s.h.i.+nes, Spangles with sheen the cl.u.s.tered vines,

And rests, in benediction fair, On midnight tresses and golden hair.

Golden hair and midnight tress, Mingle in tender lovingness,

While the evening breezes breathe upon Marie and Jean,--and their hearts are one!

”The spell of silence lifts at last, Marie, the saint's sweet day is past!

”Her vesper chimes have died away, Where shall we be on Christmas day?”

With answering throb heart thrilled to heart, Hand met hand with sudden start.

For in each soul shone the blessed thought, The vision fair of a little cot,

Nestled beneath the lilac spray, Waiting the blissful bridal day!

Low bowed in tearful silence there, Their hearts rose up in solemn prayer,

And still the mellow l.u.s.tre fell Over the banks of the blue Moselle.

And still the moonlight shone upon Marie and Jean,--and their hearts were one!

II

Six red moons have rolled away, And the sun is s.h.i.+ning on Christmas day.

Over the hills of fair Lorraine-- Heaps of ashes and rows of slain.

Where merrily rang the light guitar, The angry trump of the red hussar

Flings on the midnight's shrinking breath, The direful notes of the Dance of Death!