The Writings of Bret Harte standard library edition |
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THE FIRST BROOM RANGER
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 | The Writings of Bret Harte |  |
333
THE FIRST BROOM RANGER
AN OLD STORY WITH A NEW MORAL
Once upon the Cornish strand
Rose a tide so vast and brimming,
That it overflowed the land,
And the hamlet set a-swimming.
Rose a tide so vast and brimming,
That it overflowed the land,
And the hamlet set a-swimming.
Every cellar was submerged,
Yet the tide kept slowly swelling
Till the waters broke and surged
O'er the threshold of each dwelling.
Yet the tide kept slowly swelling
Till the waters broke and surged
O'er the threshold of each dwelling.
Then it was an ancient crone
(True to what tradition taught her)
Seized her broom, and, all alone,
Set to sweeping out the water.
(True to what tradition taught her)
Seized her broom, and, all alone,
Set to sweeping out the water.
Through that ancient female's room
Rolled the mighty ocean past her—
Still the old girl with her broom
Only worked and swept the faster.
Rolled the mighty ocean past her—
Still the old girl with her broom
Only worked and swept the faster.
When the people gathered round
And in fear and terror sought her,
All of that poor dame they found
Was her BROOM upon the water.
And in fear and terror sought her,
All of that poor dame they found
Was her BROOM upon the water.
Only with her latest breath
Had she ceased her work gigantic:
Fairly, squarely met her death,
Sweeping out the vast Atlantic.
Had she ceased her work gigantic:
Fairly, squarely met her death,
Sweeping out the vast Atlantic.
| The Writings of Bret Harte | |