Along the Shore | Page 8

a blade where lay his heart's love,
And voice for thee have I
left him none,
To brag he still seeks thee over the hills
When thou
and I are one!"
Fearless across the wide country
Rode the dark Lady Edith of Merle;

She looked at the headlands soft with haze,
And the moor's mists
of pearl.
The moon it struggled to see her pass
Through its half-lit veils of
driving gray;
But moonbeams were slower than the steed
That
Edith rode away.
Oh, what was her guerdon and her haste,
While cried the far
screech-owl in the tree,
And to her heart crept its note so lone,

Beating tremulously?
About her a black scarf floated thin,
And over her cheek the mist fell
cold,
And shuddered the moon between its rifts
Of dark cloud's
silvery fold.
Oh, white fire of the nightly sky
When burns the moon's wonder wide
and far,
And every cloud illumed with flame
Engulfs a shaken star!

Bright as comes morning from the hill,
There comes a face to her
lover's eyes;
Her love she tells; and he, dying, smiles,--
And smiles
yet in the skies.
He is dead, and closer breathe the mists;
He is dead, the owlet moans
remote;
He is buried, and the moon draws near,
To gaze and hide
and float.
Fearless within the churchyard's spell
The white-browed lady doth
stand and sigh;
She loves the mist, and the grave, and the moon,

And the owl's quivering cry.

THE DREAMING WHEEL.
Down slant the moonbeams to the floor
Through the garret's scented
air,
And show a thin-spoked spinning-wheel,
Standing ten years
and more
Far from the hearth-stone's woe and weal,--
The ghost of
a lost day's care!
And over the dreaming spinning-wheel,
That has not stirred so long,

The weaving spiders spin a veil,
A silvery shroud for its human
zeal
And usefulness, with their fingers pale,
The shadowy lights
among.
See! in the moonlight cold and gray
A thoughtful maiden stands;

And though she blames not overmuch
With her sweet lips the great
world's way,
Yet sad and slow she stoops to touch
The still wheel
with her hands.
"Forsaken wheel! when you first came
To clothe young hearts and
old,
Our ancestors were glad to wear
Your woof, nor knew the
shame
Which later days have bred, to share
The homespun's simple
fold!
"My lover's gone to win for me,
With tender pride and care,
Riches
to garnish all our days;
But love thrives in simplicity
As well as in
the prouder ways,
If noble thought is there!
"When our strong grandsires vowed to wed,
Stout knots of wool, and
corn,
Were gathered in, and hardly more
Of what will count not
when we're dead!
Life brought them to a happy shore,
Who set their
sails at dawn.
"O silent wheel! we weave a sad,
Weak fabric of our days;
The
faith that moved thee long is gone;
Forgot, the couple, lass and lad,

Who loved with courage deeply drawn,
Heeding but God's delays!

"On thy long loneliness the sun
Blazes in dread, the moon
Shines
with a pitiless, threatening hue!
And while the golden sand-grains run,

Old age comes nearer; and like you
I may be standing silent--soon!
"Then turn, my lover, turn your eyes
Back to the humble door;

Waste not the youthful years in hand.
See where the truest comfort
lies,
And join the freer old-time band,
Nor crave a worldly store!
"In Freedom's land let no one know
Even the chain of ease,
Nor
bow to royal Luxury's glance.
From peasant-hands fair art can grow;

From the rough brow thought springs with lance
And helmet: God
loves these!"
She wept; then raised her head, and swung
The aged wheel with
whispering whir;
And as it turned, it softly sung
(In fancy) this
response to her:--
"I had not spun the sower's shirt,
I had not kept the children warm,

If I had found a wearing harm
In my monotonous toil alert.
"To those who wait with eager eyes
And ready hands and tender
hearts,--
They find the giant year, that parts,
Hath forged strong
links with paradise!
"Sigh not that Time doth turn the glass
To let the golden sand-grains
run,
While longer shadows of the sun
Fall o'er the spring-time,
bonny lass!
"The circumstances of a life
Are little things compared to it;
The
way love's shown is ever fit;
Thank God, who gives us love, not
strife!
"And if I do not stand beside
The hearth, as fifty years ago,
No
current of the years that flow
Can rob the radiance from a bride!

"I know not why the world should change,
I know not why my day is
done;
And yet this limit of my zone
Hints of the limit to all range.
"Man's progress always alters tint,
As mountains move from rose to
gray;
Yet like their shapes, love still doth stay
The same,
complete,--'tis God's imprint.
"And yet I dream Time yet may turn
Its wheel to weave the humbler
thought,
As in old days. When joy is sought,
Men find it where the
hearth-fires burn."
THE ROADS THAT MEET.
ART.
One is so fair, I turn to go,
As others go, its beckoning length;
Such
paths can never lead to woe,
I say in eager, early strength.
What is
the goal?
Visions of heaven, wake;
But the wind's whispers round
me roll:
"For you, mistake!"
LOVE.
One leads beneath high oaks, and