Harry | Page 9

strikes ten;?So I won't be foolish and make a fuss,?But try to remember that men are men.
Sitting and waiting for Harry alone,?Watching the minutes, and wanting him back--?Why are you absent, my Harry, my own??Am not I nicer than billiards and Jack?
Traitress to ask such a question! for shame!?Thou art, thou knowest, beginning and end!?His whole life is thine--he is not to blame!?May not thy husband go out with a friend?
Thou art the false one, and he is the true--?Fretful and idle, unworthy thy king!?Hast thou not anything useful to do,?Thou good-for-nothing and cross little thing?
Scolding myself, I spring up from my chair,?Calling out loud that the time is not long;?March down the room with a resolute air,?Seize my guitar, and burst out into song!
Poor little girl, sitting singing alone,?Pretty guitar round a slender neck hung,?Smiles on thy lips, but a sad little moan,?Deep in a heart that is foolish and young.
SONG.
To one whose footsteps fall?Upon a mountain's height,?Earth must seem very small,?And heaven infinite.
Then why do misty tears?Conceal each lofty crest,?If earth so far appears,?So near the land of rest?
Hush! for the mists withdraw?The Hidden shines in bliss;?Who in a valley saw?A heaven-light like this?
I think when earth can speak?(She will one of these days),?That every mountain-peak?Will give a shout of praise.
I did not care for the song that I sang;?I was not thinking of mountains at all;?Tiresome and strange in mine ears the words rang--?'Heaven is infinite, earth is so small'--?Rang in that eerie monotonous way?Words sometimes will, when we don't will one bit.?Which proves they're alive--It is hard in the day,?But in the night who can battle with it??And a little sob rose up in my throat--?'Harry, Harry, Harry,' thrill'd through the sob;?I touch'd the guitar, and its answering note?Came unexpected, and made my heart throb.
SONG.
It was once upon a time,?Ere the roses bud and blow,?Underneath the scented lime,?Long ago, ah, long ago!?Is it I that was so fair,?When the sun is slanting low,?With a lily in my hair,?Ah, so very long ago?
Was my heart as light as this?Was the lily white as snow??What a happy hour it is,?Long ago, ah, long ago??Then the lily bloom'd to save,?Ere a tear had learn'd to flow?Now it lies upon a grave,?Ah, so very long ago!
While I sat singing, steps came on the path,?Outside the window--what marvel is this??Steady and solemn, they make my heart wrath,?Steps come towards me, and they are not his!?Steps in the night time pass up to my door;?Then comes a knocking might waken the dead:?Instead of one Harry there must be four,?Only not one has his light springy tread.
My old nurse's son to sea ran away--?At a 'Norwester,' or gale from the South,?I've heard the poor woman tremblingly say?The sound 'brought her heart up into her mouth!'
I, little prattler, crouched down at her feet,?Would stop aghast in my innocent play,?Wondering, will she be able to eat,?Supposing her heart in her mouth shall stay?
Strange are our minds and their workings, I'm sure?Studying them might drive Solomon wild:?At the loud knocking, I ran to the door?With a sudden thought of that nurse and child.
I saw her rocking herself in her chair,?While the mad wind blew 'neath the stormy sky;?I saw the little child watching her there,?And knew, with a pang, that the child was I.
(Strange are the pangs, that, when life is most fair,?With not a regret to shadow the scene,?Seize on the heart with a sudden despair,?From a passing mem'ry of what has been.)
And while to the door I ran with a start,?Frighten'd to death at the knocking without,?I was thinking of my old nurse's heart,?And not of what all the noise was about!
Four men without peering sharply within;?One girl within looking out at the men;?Silence at first--you might have heard a pin?Drop on the doorsteps--silence--and then,
'What do you want?' cried the girl. She spoke loud,?In a voice that sounded unlike her own.?'We want Mr. Vane,' said a man, who bowed,?And uttered the words in a gentle tone.
They were very well dressed--they were not poor--?They had shining hats and cloaks wrapp'd about,?These men who stood at the happy hall-door,?Where Harry and I run in and run out.
(You want him? _I_ want him, I might have said;?But only to say so seem'd like a sin):?'He is not within'; and I shook my head,?And while I yet spoke the men were within.
They did not appear to wish to intrude;?They did not attempt to frighten me now;?They did not push by me; they were not rude;--?But somehow they enter'd--I know not how.
'It's no use trying to 'ide 'im, my dear,'?Said one, in a really fatherly way;?'In course we knows that the gen'leman's 'ere;?And till he turns up we shall 'ave to stay.'
'The gentleman's here? but no one has come;?And no one can come--it is much too late.?Mr. Vane is