Ellen Gray or, The dead maiden's curse. A poem, by the late Dr. Archibald Macleod [i.e. W. L. Bowles] |
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 | Ellen Gray |  |
Ellen expected Hubert; the first flow'r
She gather'd, now was fading; hour by hour
She watch'd the sunshine on the thatch; again
Her mother turn'd the hour-glass; now, the pane
The west'ring sun has left. The long May-day,
So Ellen wore in hopes and fears away.
Slow twilight steals—by the small garden-gate
She stands,—“Oh! Hubert never came so late!”
Her mother's voice is heard; “Good child, come in;
“Dream not of bliss on earth—it is a sin:
“Come, take the Bible down, my child, and read;
“In disappointed hopes, in grief, in need,—
“By friends forsaken, and by fears oppress'd,
“There, only, can the weary heart find rest!”
She gather'd, now was fading; hour by hour
She watch'd the sunshine on the thatch; again
Her mother turn'd the hour-glass; now, the pane
The west'ring sun has left. The long May-day,
So Ellen wore in hopes and fears away.
Slow twilight steals—by the small garden-gate
She stands,—“Oh! Hubert never came so late!”
Her mother's voice is heard; “Good child, come in;
“Dream not of bliss on earth—it is a sin:
“Come, take the Bible down, my child, and read;
“In disappointed hopes, in grief, in need,—
“By friends forsaken, and by fears oppress'd,
“There, only, can the weary heart find rest!”
| Ellen Gray | |