The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan In Two Volumes. With a Portrait |
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‘Eureka Hart, Drowsietown, State
of Maine.’
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The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan | ||
‘Eureka Hart, Drowsietown, State of Maine.’
First lightning flash of fierce surprise!
It burns her cheek, and blinds her eyes
Again she looks on the strange creature's
Tall, ragged form and beauteous features.
Next lightning flash, and muffled thunder—
‘The baby's skin is white—no wonder!’
And she perceives, as plain as may be,
All the event—down to the baby!
Last flash, the whole dark mystery lighting,—
‘Why, it's Eureka's own handwriting!’
It burns her cheek, and blinds her eyes
Again she looks on the strange creature's
Tall, ragged form and beauteous features.
Next lightning flash, and muffled thunder—
‘The baby's skin is white—no wonder!’
And she perceives, as plain as may be,
All the event—down to the baby!
Last flash, the whole dark mystery lighting,—
‘Why, it's Eureka's own handwriting!’
Ay, little wife!—and these dim stains
Are life-blood from Eureka's veins;
In blood the words were writ by him,
And see! how faded and how dim!
Are life-blood from Eureka's veins;
In blood the words were writ by him,
And see! how faded and how dim!
The woman took her hand. She shook
The touch away with tiger-look,
And trembling gazed upon her. So.
She stagger'd underneath the blow,
Watch'd by the stranger's luminous eyes
In mingled stupor and surprise;
Ah! little did the stranger guess
The situation's bitterness,
But in her own wild tongue did say,
‘Where is my love? show me the way!’
The touch away with tiger-look,
And trembling gazed upon her. So.
She stagger'd underneath the blow,
Watch'd by the stranger's luminous eyes
In mingled stupor and surprise;
Ah! little did the stranger guess
The situation's bitterness,
But in her own wild tongue did say,
‘Where is my love? show me the way!’
A hand upon the latch. Both start,—
The door swings wide—the drift sweeps in.
Footsteps: and lo! Eurcka Hart,
Snow-cover'd, muffled to the chin.
The door swings wide—the drift sweeps in.
Footsteps: and lo! Eurcka Hart,
Snow-cover'd, muffled to the chin.
The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan | ||