 | Poems by Julia C. R. Dorr |  |
359
EASTER MORNING
Dame Margaret spake to Annie Blair,
To Annie Blair spake she,
As from beneath her wrinkled hand
She peered far out to sea.
To Annie Blair spake she,
As from beneath her wrinkled hand
She peered far out to sea.
“Look forth, look forth, O Annie Blair,
For my old eyes are dim;
See you a single boat afloat
Within the horizon's rim?”
For my old eyes are dim;
See you a single boat afloat
Within the horizon's rim?”
Sweet Annie looked to east, to west,
To north and south looked she:
There was no single boat afloat
Upon the angry sea.
To north and south looked she:
There was no single boat afloat
Upon the angry sea.
The sky was dark, the winds were high,
The breakers lashed the shore,
And louder and still louder swelled
The tempest's sullen roar.
The breakers lashed the shore,
And louder and still louder swelled
The tempest's sullen roar.
“Look forth again,” Dame Margaret cried;
“Doth any boat come in?”
And scarce she heard the answering word
Above the furious din.
“Doth any boat come in?”
And scarce she heard the answering word
Above the furious din.
“Pray God no boat may put to sea
In such a gale!” she said;
“Pray God no soul may dare to-night
The rocks of Danger Head!”
In such a gale!” she said;
“Pray God no soul may dare to-night
The rocks of Danger Head!”
360
“This is Good Friday, Annie Blair,”
Dame Margaret cried again,
“When Mary's Son, the Merciful,
On Calvary was slain.
Dame Margaret cried again,
“When Mary's Son, the Merciful,
On Calvary was slain.
“The earth did quake, the rocks were rent,
The graves were opened wide,
And darkness like to this fell down
When He—the Holy—died.
The graves were opened wide,
And darkness like to this fell down
When He—the Holy—died.
“Give me your hand, O Annie Blair;
Your two knees fall upon;
Christ send to you your lover back—
To me, my only son!”
Your two knees fall upon;
Christ send to you your lover back—
To me, my only son!”
All night they watched, all night they prayed,
All night they heard the roar
Of the fierce breakers dashing high
Upon the lonely shore.
All night they heard the roar
Of the fierce breakers dashing high
Upon the lonely shore.
Oh, hark! strange footsteps on the sand,
A voice above the din:
“Dame Margaret! Dame Margaret!
Is Annie Blair within?
A voice above the din:
“Dame Margaret! Dame Margaret!
Is Annie Blair within?
“High on the rocks of Danger Head
Her lover's boat is cast,
All rudderless, all anchorless—
Mere hull and splintered mast.”
Her lover's boat is cast,
All rudderless, all anchorless—
Mere hull and splintered mast.”
Oh, hark! slow footsteps on the sand,
And women wailing sore:
“Dame Margaret! Dame Margaret!
Your son you'll see no more!
And women wailing sore:
“Dame Margaret! Dame Margaret!
Your son you'll see no more!
361
“God pity you! Christ comfort you!”
The weeping women cried;
But “May God pity Annie Blair!”
Dame Margaret replied.
The weeping women cried;
But “May God pity Annie Blair!”
Dame Margaret replied.
“For life is long and youth is strong,
And it must still bear on.
Leave us alone to make our moan—
My son! alas, my son!”
And it must still bear on.
Leave us alone to make our moan—
My son! alas, my son!”
The Easter morning, flushed with joy,
Saw all the winds at rest,
And far and near the blue sea smiled
With sunshine on its breast.
Saw all the winds at rest,
And far and near the blue sea smiled
With sunshine on its breast.
The neighbors came, the neighbors went;
They sought the house of prayer;
But on the rocks of Danger Head
The dame and Annie Blair,
They sought the house of prayer;
But on the rocks of Danger Head
The dame and Annie Blair,
With still, white faces, watched the deep
Without a tear or moan.
“I cannot weep,” said Annie Blair—
“My heart is turned to stone.”
Without a tear or moan.
“I cannot weep,” said Annie Blair—
“My heart is turned to stone.”
Forth from the church the pastor came,
And up the rocks strode he,
Baring his thin white locks to meet
The salt breath of the sea.
And up the rocks strode he,
Baring his thin white locks to meet
The salt breath of the sea.
“The rocks shall rend, the earth shall quake,
The sea give up its dead,
For Christ our Lord is risen indeed—
'Tis Easter morn,” he said.
The sea give up its dead,
For Christ our Lord is risen indeed—
'Tis Easter morn,” he said.
362
Oh, hark! oh, hark! A startled cry,
A rush of hurrying feet,
The swarming of a hundred men
Adown the village street.
A rush of hurrying feet,
The swarming of a hundred men
Adown the village street.
“Now unto God and Christ the Lord
Be praise and thanks alway!
The sea hath given up its dead
This blessed Easter-day.”
Be praise and thanks alway!
The sea hath given up its dead
This blessed Easter-day.”
| Poems by Julia C. R. Dorr | |