The Haunted Hour | Page 8

found the ring inside,?Before next Hallows' E'en has dawned herself will be a bride. But little Mollie stands alone outside the cabin door,?And breaks her heart for one the waves threw dead upon the shore.
Twas Katie's nut lepped from the hearth, and left poor Pat's alone But Ellen's stayed by Christy Byrne's upon the wide hearthstone. An' all the while the childher bobbed for apples set afloat, The old men smoked their pipes and talked about the foundered boat, But Mollie walked upon the cliff, and never feared the rain; She called the name of one she loved and bid him come again.
Young Peter pulled the cabbage-stump to win a wealthy wife, Rosanna threw the apple-peel to know who'd share her life;?And Lizzie had a looking-glass she'd hid in some dark place To try if there, foreninst her own, she'd see her comrade's face. But Mollie walked along the quay where Terry's feet had trod, And sobbed her grief out in the night, with no one near but God.
She heard the laughter from the house, she heard the fiddle played; She called her dead love to her side--why should she be afraid? She took his cold hands in her own, she had no thought of dread, And not a star looked out to watch the living kiss the dead.
The lads are gaming with the girls, and laughing by the fire. But Mollie in the cold, dark night, has found her heart's desire.
ON KINGSTON BRIDGE: ELLEN M.H. CORTISSOZ
(On All Souls' Night the dead walk on Kingston?Bridge.--Old Legend.)
On Kingston Bridge the starlight shone?Through hurrying mists in shrouded glow;?The boding night-wind made its moan,?The mighty river crept below.?'Twas All Souls' Night, and to and fro?The quick and dead together walked,?The quick and dead together talked,
On Kingston Bridge.
Two met who had not met for years;?Once was their hate too deep for fears:?One drew his rapier as he came,?Upleapt his anger like a flame.?With clash of mail he faced his foe,?And bade him stand and meet him so.?He felt a graveyard wind go by?Cold, cold as was his enemy.?A stony horror held him fast.?The Dead looked with a ghastly stare,?And sighed "I know thee not," and passed?Like to the mist, and left him there
On Kingston Bridge.
'Twas All Souls' Night, and to and fro?The quick and dead together walked,?The quick and dead together talked,
On Kingston Bridge.
Two met who had not met for years:?With grief that was too deep for tears
They parted last.?He clasped her hand, and in her eyes?He sought Love's rapturous surprise.?"Oh, Sweet!" he cried, "hast thou come back?To say thou lov'st thy lover still?"?--Into the starlight, pale and cold,?She gazed afar--her hand was chill:?"Dost thou remember how we kept?Our ardent vigils?--how we kissed?--?Take thou these kisses as of old!"?An icy wind about him swept;?"I know thee not," she sighed, and passed?Into the dim and shrouding mist
On Kingston Bridge.
'Twas All Souls' Night, and to and fro?The quick and dead together walked,?The quick and dead together talked,
On Kingston Bridge.
ALL SOULS' NIGHT: LOUISA HUMPHREYS
Canice the priest went out on the Night of Souls;?"Stay, oh stay," said the woman who served his board?"Stay, for the path is strait with pits and holes,?And the night is dark and the way is lone abroad;?Stay within because it is lone, at least."?"Nay, it will not be lone," said Canice the priest.
Dim without, and a dim, low-sweeping sky;?A scent of earth in the night, of opened mould;?A listening pause in the night--and a breath passed by--?And its touch was cold, was cold as the graves are cold?Canice went on to the waste where no men be;?"Nay, I will not be lone to-night," said he.
Shades that flit, besides the shades of the night;?Rustling sobs besides the sobs of the wind;?Steps of feet that pace with his on the right,?Steps that pace on the left, and steps behind.?"Nay, no fear that I shall be lone, at least!?Lo, there are throngs abroad," said Canice the priest.
Deathly hands that pluck at his cassock's hem;?Sighings of earthly breath that smite his cheek;?Canice the priest swings on, atune with them,?Hears the throbbings of pain, and hears them speak;?Hears the word they utter, and answers "Yea!?Yea, poor souls, for I heed; I pray, I pray."
Lo, a gleam of gray, and the dark is done;?Hark, a bird that trills a song of the light.?Canice hies him home by the shine of the sun.?What to-day of those pallid wraiths of the night??What of the woeful notes that had wailed and fled??"Maria, ora pro illis!" Canice said.
"ALL THE LITTLE SIGHING SOULS"
MARY SHEPHERDESS: MARJORIE L.C. PICKTHALL
When the heron's in the high wood and the last long furrow's sown With the herded cloud before her and her sea-sweet raiment blown Comes Mary, Mary Shepherdess, a-seeking for her own.
Saint James he calls the righteous folk, Saint John he calls the kind, Saint Peter seeks the