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Poems of Sorrow and Death.
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THE BURNING OF CHICAGO.
I.
'Twas night in the beautiful city,The famous and wonderful city,
The proud and magnificent city,
The Queen of the North and the West.
The riches of nations were gathered in wondrous and plentiful store;
The swift-speeding bearers of Commerce were waiting on river and shore;
The great staring walls towered skyward, with visage undaunted and bold,
And said, “We are ready, O Winter! come on with your hunger and cold!
Sweep down with your storms from the northward! come out from your ice-guarded lair!
Our larders have food for a nation! our wardrobes have clothing to spare!
For off from the corn-bladed prairies, and out from the valleys and hills,
The farmer has swept us his harvests, the miller has emptied his mills;
And here, in the lap of our city, the treasures of autumn shall rest,
In golden-crowned, glorious Chicago, the Queen of the North and the West!”
II.
'Twas night in the church-guarded city,The temple and altar-decked city,
The turreted, spire-adorned city,
The Queen of the North and the West.
And out from the beautiful temples that wealth in its fullness had made,
And out from the haunts that were humble, where Poverty peacefully prayed,
Where praises and thanks had been offered to Him where they rightly belonged,
In peacefulness quietly homeward the worshiping multitude thronged.
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Who proudly deigned thanks to Jehovah he was not as other men are;
The penitent, crushed in his weakness, and laden with pain and with sin;
The outcast who yearningly waited to hear the glad bidding, “Come in;”
And thus went they quietly homeward, with sins and omissions confessed,
In spire-adorned, templed Chicago, the Queen of the North and the West.
III.
'Twas night in the sin-burdened city,The turbulent, vice-laden city,
The sin-compassed, rogue-haunted city,
Though Queen of the North and the West.
And low in their caves of pollution great beasts of humanity growled;
And over his money-strewn table the gambler bent fiercely, and scowled;
And men with no seeming of manhood, with countenance flaming and fell,
Drank deep from the fire-laden fountains that spring from the rivers of hell;
And men with no seeming of manhood, who dreaded the coming of day,
Prowled, cat-like, for blood-purchased plunder from men who were better than they;
And men with no seeming of manhood, whose dearest-craved glory was shame,
Whose joys were the sorrows of others, whose harvests were acres of flame,
Slunk, whispering and low, in their corners, with bowie and pistol tight-pressed,
In rogue-haunted, sin-cursed Chicago, though Queen of the North and the West.
IV.
'Twas night in the elegant city,The rich and voluptuous city,
The beauty-thronged, mansion-decked city,
Gay Queen of the North and the West.
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And softly the mother was fondling her innocent baby to sleep;
And maidens were dreaming of pleasures and triumphs the future should show,
And scanning the brightness and glory of joys they were never to know;
And firesides were cheerful and happy, and Comfort smiled sweetly around;
But grim Desolation and Ruin looked into the window and frowned.
And pitying angels looked downward, and gazed on their loved ones below,
And longed to reach forth a deliverance, and yearned to beat backward the foe;
But Pleasure and Comfort were reigning, nor danger was spoken or guessed,
In beautiful, golden Chicago, gay Queen of the North and the West.
V.
Then up in the streets of the city,The careless and negligent city,
The soon to be sacrificed city,
Doomed Queen of the North and the West,
Crept, softly and slyly, so tiny it hardly was worthy the name,
Crept, slowly and soft through the rubbish, a radiant serpent of flame.
The South-wind and West-wind came shrieking, “Rouse up in your strength and your ire!
For many a year they have chained you, and crushed you, O demon of fire!
For many a year they have bound you, and made you their servant and slave!
Now, rouse you, and dig for this city a fiery and desolate grave!
Freight heavy with grief and with wailing her world-scattered pride and renown!
Charge straight on her mansions of splendor, and battle her battlements down!
And we, the strong South-wind and West-wind, with thrice-doubled fury possessed,
Will sweep with you over this city, this Queen of the North and the West!”
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VI.
Then straight at the great, quiet city,The strong and o'erconfident city,
The ruined and tempest-tossed city,
Doomed Queen of the North and the West,
The Fire-devil rallied his legions, and speeded them forth on the wind,
With tinder and treasures before him, with ruins and tempests behind.
The tenement crushed 'neath his footstep, the mansion oped wide at his knock;
And walls that had frowned him defiance, they trembled and fell with a shock;
And down on the hot, smoking house-tops came raining a deluge of fire;
And serpents of flame writhed and clambered, and twisted on steeple and spire;
And beautiful, glorious Chicago, the city of riches and fame,
Was swept by a storm of destruction, was flooded by billows of flame.
The Fire-king loomed high in his glory, with crimson and flame-streaming crest,
And grinned his fierce scorn on Chicago, doomed Queen of the North and the West.
VII.
Then swiftly the quick-breathing city,The fearful and panic-struck city,
The startled and fire-deluged city,
Rushed back from the South and the West.
And loudly the fire-bells were clanging, and ringing their funeral notes;
And loudly wild accents of terror came pealing from thousands of throats;
And loud was the wagon's deep rumbling, and loud the wheel's clatter and creak;
And loud was the calling for succor from those who were sightless and weak;
And loud were the hoofs of the horses, and loud was the tramping of feet;
And loud was the gale's ceaseless howling through fire-lighted alley and street;
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And louder, yet louder, the roaring that told of the coming of hell.
The Fire-king threw back his black mantle from off his great blood-dappled breast,
And sneered in the face of Chicago, the Queen of the North and the West.
VIII.
And there, in the terrible city,The panic-struck, terror-crazed city,
The flying and flame-pursued city,
The torch of the North and the West,
A beautiful maiden lay moaning, as many a day she had lain,
In fetters of wearisome weakness, and throbbings of pitiful pain.
The amorous Fire-king came to her—he breathed his hot breath on her cheek;
She fled from his touch, but he caught her, and held her, all pulseless and weak.
The Fire-king he caught her and held her, in warm and unyielding embrace;
He wrapped her about in his vestments, he pressed his hot lips to her face;
Then, sated and palled with his triumph, he scornfully flung her away,
And, blackened and crushed in the ruins, unknown and uncoffined, she lay—
Lay, blackened and crushed by the Fire-king, in ruined and desolate rest,
Like ravished and ruined Chicago, the Queen of the North and the West.
IX.
'Twas morn in the desolate city,The ragged and ruin-heaped city,
The homeless and hot-smoking city,
The grief of the North and the West.
But down from the West came the bidding, “O Queen, lift in courage thy head!
Thy friends and thy neighbors awaken, and hasten, with raiment and bread.”
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For comfort and aid shall be coming from out our savannas and brakes!”
And down from the North came the bidding, “O city, be hopeful of cheer!
We've somewhat to spare for thy sufferers, for all of our suffering here!”
And up from the East came the bidding, “O city, be dauntless and bold!
Look hither for food and for raiment—look hither for credit and gold!”
And all through the world went the bidding, “Bring hither your choicest and best,
For weary and hungry Chicago, sad Queen of the North and the West!”
X.
O crushed but invincible city!O broken but fast-rising city!
O glorious and unconquered city,
Still Queen of the North and the West!
The long, golden years of the future, with treasures increasing and rare,
Shall glisten upon thy rich garments, shall twine in the folds of thy hair!
From out the black heaps of thy ruins new columns of beauty shall rise,
And glittering domes shall fling grandly our nation's proud flag to the skies!
From off thy wide prairies of splendor the treasures of autumn shall pour,
The breezes shall sweep from the northward, and hurry the ships to thy shore!
For Heaven will look downward in mercy on those who've passed under the rod,
And happ'ly again they will prosper, and bask in the blessings of God.
Once more thou shalt stand mid the cities, by prosperous breezes caressed,
O grand and unconquered Chicago, still Queen of the North and the West!
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THE RAILROAD HOLOCAUST.
[New Hamburg, N. Y., February, 1871.]
Over the length of the beaten track,
Into the darkness deep and black,
Heavy and fast
As a mountain blast,
With scream of whistle and clang of gong,
The great train rattled and thundered along.
Into the darkness deep and black,
Heavy and fast
As a mountain blast,
With scream of whistle and clang of gong,
The great train rattled and thundered along.
Travelers, cushioned and sheltered, sat,
Passing the time with doze and chat;
Thinking of naught
With danger fraught;
Whiling the hours with whim and song,
As the great train rattled and thundered along.
Passing the time with doze and chat;
Thinking of naught
With danger fraught;
Whiling the hours with whim and song,
As the great train rattled and thundered along.
Covered and still the sleepers lay,
Lost to the dangers of the way;
Wandering back,
Adown life's track,
A thousand dreamy scenes among;
And the great train rattled and thundered along.
Lost to the dangers of the way;
Wandering back,
Adown life's track,
A thousand dreamy scenes among;
And the great train rattled and thundered along.
Heavily breathed the man of care;
Lightly slept the maiden fair;
And the mother pressed
Unto her breast
Her beautiful babes, with yearning strong;
And the great train rattled and thundered along.
Lightly slept the maiden fair;
And the mother pressed
Unto her breast
Her beautiful babes, with yearning strong;
And the great train rattled and thundered along.
Shading his eyes with his brawny hand,
Danger ahead the driver scanned;
And he turned the steam;
For the red light's gleam
Flashed warning to him there was something wrong;
But the great train rattled and thundered along.
Danger ahead the driver scanned;
And he turned the steam;
For the red light's gleam
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But the great train rattled and thundered along.
“Down the brakes!” rang the driver's shout:
“Down the brakes!” sang the whistle out:
But the speed was high,
And the danger nigh,
And Death was waiting to build his pyre;
And the train dashed into a river of fire.
“Down the brakes!” sang the whistle out:
But the speed was high,
And the danger nigh,
And Death was waiting to build his pyre;
And the train dashed into a river of fire.
Into the night the red flames gleamed;
High they leaped and crackled and streamed:
And the great train loomed,
Like a monster doomed,
In the midst of the flames and their ruthless ire—
In the murderous tide of a river of fire.
High they leaped and crackled and streamed:
And the great train loomed,
Like a monster doomed,
In the midst of the flames and their ruthless ire—
In the murderous tide of a river of fire.
Roused the sleeper within his bed:
A crash, a plunge, and a gleam of red,
And the sweltering heat
Of his winding-sheet
Clung round his form, with an agony dire;
He moaned and died in a river of fire.
A crash, a plunge, and a gleam of red,
And the sweltering heat
Of his winding-sheet
Clung round his form, with an agony dire;
He moaned and died in a river of fire.
And they who were spared from the fearful death,
Thanked God for life, with quickened breath,
And groaned that too late,
From a terrible fate
To rescue their comrades was their desire,
Ere they sunk in a river of death and fire.
Thanked God for life, with quickened breath,
And groaned that too late,
From a terrible fate
To rescue their comrades was their desire,
Ere they sunk in a river of death and fire.
Pity for them who, helpless, died,
And sunk in the river's merciless tide:
And blessings infold
The driver bold,
Who, daring for honor, and not for hire,
Went down with his train in the river of fire.
And sunk in the river's merciless tide:
And blessings infold
The driver bold,
Who, daring for honor, and not for hire,
Went down with his train in the river of fire.
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SHIP “CITY OF BOSTON.”
“We only know she sailed away,
And ne'er was heard of more.”
And ne'er was heard of more.”
Waves of the ocean that thunder and roar.
Where is the ship that we sent from our shore?
Tell, as ye dash on the quivering strand,
Where is the crew that comes never to land?
Where are the hearts that, unfearing and gay,
Broke from the clasp of affection away?
Where are the faces that, smiling and bright,
Sailed for the death-darkened regions of night?
Waves of the ocean, that thunder and roar,
Where is the ship that we sent from our shore?
Where is the ship that we sent from our shore?
Tell, as ye dash on the quivering strand,
Where is the crew that comes never to land?
Where are the hearts that, unfearing and gay,
Broke from the clasp of affection away?
Where are the faces that, smiling and bright,
Sailed for the death-darkened regions of night?
Waves of the ocean, that thunder and roar,
Where is the ship that we sent from our shore?
Storms of the ocean, that bellow and sweep,
Where are the friends that went forth on the deep?
Where are the faces ye paled with your sneer?
Where are the hearts ye have frozen with fear?
Where is the maiden, young, tender, and fair?
Where is the grandsire, of silvery hair?
Where is the glory of womanhood's time?
Where the warm blood of man's vigor and prime?
Storms of the ocean, that bellow and pour,
Where is the ship that we sent from our shore?
Where are the friends that went forth on the deep?
Where are the faces ye paled with your sneer?
Where are the hearts ye have frozen with fear?
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Where is the grandsire, of silvery hair?
Where is the glory of womanhood's time?
Where the warm blood of man's vigor and prime?
Storms of the ocean, that bellow and pour,
Where is the ship that we sent from our shore?
Birds of the ocean, that scream through the gale,
What have ye seen of a wind-beaten sail?
Perched ye for rest on the shivering mast,
Beaten, and shattered, and bent by the blast?
Heard ye the storm-threatened mariner's plea,
Birds of the bitter and treacherous sea?
Heard ye no message to carry away
Home to the hearts that are yearning to-day?
Birds of the ocean, that hover and soar,
Where is the ship that we sent from our shore?
What have ye seen of a wind-beaten sail?
Perched ye for rest on the shivering mast,
Beaten, and shattered, and bent by the blast?
Heard ye the storm-threatened mariner's plea,
Birds of the bitter and treacherous sea?
Heard ye no message to carry away
Home to the hearts that are yearning to-day?
Birds of the ocean, that hover and soar,
Where is the ship that we sent from our shore?
Depths of the ocean, that fathomless lie,
Where is the crew that no more cometh nigh?
What of the guests that so silently sleep
Low in thy chambers, relentlessly deep?
Cold is the couch they have haplessly won;
Long is the night they have entered upon;
Still must they sleep till the trumpet o'erhead
Summons the sea to uncover its dead.
Depths of the ocean, with treasures in store,
Where is the ship that we sent from our shore?
Where is the crew that no more cometh nigh?
What of the guests that so silently sleep
Low in thy chambers, relentlessly deep?
Cold is the couch they have haplessly won;
Long is the night they have entered upon;
Still must they sleep till the trumpet o'erhead
Summons the sea to uncover its dead.
Depths of the ocean, with treasures in store,
Where is the ship that we sent from our shore?
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GONE BEFORE.
I.
Pull up the window-lattice, Jane, and raise me in my bed,
And trim my beard, and brush my hair, and from this covering free me,
And brace me back against the wall, and raise my aching head,
And make me trim, for one I love is coming here to see me;
Or if she do not see me, Jane, 'twill be that her dear eyes
Are shut as ne'er they shut before, in all of their reposing;
For never yet my lowest word has failed of kind replies,
And ever still my lightest touch has burst her eyelids' closing;
So let her come to me.
And trim my beard, and brush my hair, and from this covering free me,
And brace me back against the wall, and raise my aching head,
And make me trim, for one I love is coming here to see me;
Or if she do not see me, Jane, 'twill be that her dear eyes
Are shut as ne'er they shut before, in all of their reposing;
For never yet my lowest word has failed of kind replies,
And ever still my lightest touch has burst her eyelids' closing;
So let her come to me.
They say she's coming in her sleep—a sleep they can not break;
Ay, let them call, and let them weep, in dull and droning fashion!
Her ear may hear their doleful tones an age and never wake;
But let me pour into its depth my words of burning passion!
Ay, let my hot and yearning lips, that long have yearned in vain,
But press her pure and sacred cheek, and wander in her tresses
And let my tears no more be lost, but on her forehead rain,
And she will rise and pity me, and soothe me with caresses;
So let her come to me.
Ay, let them call, and let them weep, in dull and droning fashion!
Her ear may hear their doleful tones an age and never wake;
But let me pour into its depth my words of burning passion!
Ay, let my hot and yearning lips, that long have yearned in vain,
But press her pure and sacred cheek, and wander in her tresses
And let my tears no more be lost, but on her forehead rain,
And she will rise and pity me, and soothe me with caresses;
So let her come to me.
O silver-crested days agone, that wove us in one heart!
O golden future years, that urged our hands to clasp in striving!
There is not that in earth or sky can hold us two apart;
And I of her, and she of me, not long may know depriving!
So bring her here, where I have long in absence pining lain,
While on my fevered weakness crashed the castles of our building;
And once together, all the woe and weary throbs of pain
That strove to cloud our happiness shall be its present gilding;
So let her come to me.
O golden future years, that urged our hands to clasp in striving!
There is not that in earth or sky can hold us two apart;
And I of her, and she of me, not long may know depriving!
So bring her here, where I have long in absence pining lain,
While on my fevered weakness crashed the castles of our building;
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That strove to cloud our happiness shall be its present gilding;
So let her come to me.
II.
They brought her me—they brought her me—they bore her to my bed;
And first I marked her coffin's form, and saw its jewels glisten.
I talked to her, I wept to her, but she was cold and dead;
I prayed to her, and then I knew she was not here to listen.
For Death had wooed and won my love, and carried her away.
How could she know my trusting heart, and then so sadly grieve me!
Her hand was his, her cheek was his, her lips of ashen gray;
Her heart was never yet for him, however she might leave me;
Her heart was e'er for me.
And first I marked her coffin's form, and saw its jewels glisten.
I talked to her, I wept to her, but she was cold and dead;
I prayed to her, and then I knew she was not here to listen.
For Death had wooed and won my love, and carried her away.
How could she know my trusting heart, and then so sadly grieve me!
Her hand was his, her cheek was his, her lips of ashen gray;
Her heart was never yet for him, however she might leave me;
Her heart was e'er for me.
O waves that well had sunk my life, sweep back to me again!
I will not fight your coming now, or flee from your pursuing!
But bear me, beat me, dash me to the land of Death, and then
I'll find the love Death stole from me, and scorn him with my wooing!
Oh, I will light his gloomy orbs with jealous, mad surprise;
Oh, I will crush his pride, e'en with the lack of my endeavor;
The while I boldly bear away, from underneath his eyes,
The soul that God had made for me—to lose no more forever;
Ay, she will go with me.
I will not fight your coming now, or flee from your pursuing!
But bear me, beat me, dash me to the land of Death, and then
I'll find the love Death stole from me, and scorn him with my wooing!
Oh, I will light his gloomy orbs with jealous, mad surprise;
Oh, I will crush his pride, e'en with the lack of my endeavor;
The while I boldly bear away, from underneath his eyes,
The soul that God had made for me—to lose no more forever;
Ay, she will go with me.
Pull down the window-lattice, Jane, and turn me in my bed,
And not until the set of sun be anxious for my waking;
And ere that hour a robe of light above me shall be spread,
And darkness here shall show me there the morn that now is breaking.
And in one grave let us be laid—my truant love and me—
And side by side shall rest the hearts that once were one in beating;
And soon together and for aye our wedded souls shall be,
And never cloud shall dim again the brightness of our meeting,
Where now she waits for me.
And not until the set of sun be anxious for my waking;
And ere that hour a robe of light above me shall be spread,
And darkness here shall show me there the morn that now is breaking.
And in one grave let us be laid—my truant love and me—
And side by side shall rest the hearts that once were one in beating;
And soon together and for aye our wedded souls shall be,
And never cloud shall dim again the brightness of our meeting,
Where now she waits for me.
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THE LITTLE SLEEPER.
There is mourning in the cottage as the twilight shadows fall,
For a little rose-wood coffin has been brought into the hall,
And a little pallid sleeper,
In a slumber colder, deeper
Than the days of life could give her, in its narrow borders lies,
With the sweet and changeful lustre ever faded from her eyes.
For a little rose-wood coffin has been brought into the hall,
And a little pallid sleeper,
In a slumber colder, deeper
Than the days of life could give her, in its narrow borders lies,
With the sweet and changeful lustre ever faded from her eyes.
Since the morning of her coming, but a score of suns had set,
And the strangeness of the dawning of her life is with her yet;
And the dainty lips asunder
Are a little pressed with wonder,
And her smiling bears the traces of a shadow of surprise;
But the wondering mind that made it looks no more from out her eyes.
And the strangeness of the dawning of her life is with her yet;
And the dainty lips asunder
Are a little pressed with wonder,
And her smiling bears the traces of a shadow of surprise;
But the wondering mind that made it looks no more from out her eyes.
'Twas a soul upon a journey, and was lost upon its way;
'Twas a flash of light from heaven on a tiny piece of clay;
'Twas more timid, and yet bolder,
It was younger, and yet older,
It was weaker, and yet stronger, than this little human guise,
With the strange unearthly lustre ever faded from its eyes.
'Twas a flash of light from heaven on a tiny piece of clay;
'Twas more timid, and yet bolder,
It was younger, and yet older,
It was weaker, and yet stronger, than this little human guise,
With the strange unearthly lustre ever faded from its eyes.
They will bury her the morrow; they will mourn her as she died;
I will bury her the morrow, and another by her side;
For the raven hair, but started,
Soon a maiden would have parted,
Full of fitful joy and sorrow—gladly gay and sadly wise;
With a dash of worldly mischief in her deep and changeful eyes.
I will bury her the morrow, and another by her side;
For the raven hair, but started,
Soon a maiden would have parted,
Full of fitful joy and sorrow—gladly gay and sadly wise;
With a dash of worldly mischief in her deep and changeful eyes.
I will bury her the morrow, and another by her side:
It shall be a wife and mother, full of love and care and pride;
Full of hope, and of misgiving;
Of the joys and griefs of living;
Of the pains of others' being, and the tears of others' cries;
With the love of God encompassed in her smiling, weeping eyes.
It shall be a wife and mother, full of love and care and pride;
Full of hope, and of misgiving;
Of the joys and griefs of living;
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With the love of God encompassed in her smiling, weeping eyes.
I will bury on the morrow, too, a grandame, wrinkled, old;
One whose pleasures of the present were the joys that had been told;
I will bury one whose blessing
Was the transport of caressing
Every joy that she had buried—every lost and broken prize;
With a gleam of heaven-expected, in her dim and longing eyes.
One whose pleasures of the present were the joys that had been told;
I will bury one whose blessing
Was the transport of caressing
Every joy that she had buried—every lost and broken prize;
With a gleam of heaven-expected, in her dim and longing eyes.
I will joy for her to-morrow, as I see her compassed in;
For the lips now pure and holy might be some time stained with sin;
And the brow now white and stainless,
And the heart now light and painless,
Might have throbbed with guilty passion, and with sin-encumbered sighs
Might have surged the sea of brightness in the sweet and changeful eyes.
For the lips now pure and holy might be some time stained with sin;
And the brow now white and stainless,
And the heart now light and painless,
Might have throbbed with guilty passion, and with sin-encumbered sighs
Might have surged the sea of brightness in the sweet and changeful eyes.
Let them bury her to-morrow—let them treasure her away;
Let the soul go back to heaven, and the body back to clay;
Let the future grief here hidden,
Let the happiness forbidden,
Be for evermore forgotten, and be buried as it dies;
And an angel let us see her, with our sad and weeping eyes.
Let the soul go back to heaven, and the body back to clay;
Let the future grief here hidden,
Let the happiness forbidden,
Be for evermore forgotten, and be buried as it dies;
And an angel let us see her, with our sad and weeping eyes.
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'TIS SNOWING.
FIRST VOICE.Hurra! 'tis snowing!
On street and house-roof, gently cast,
The falling flakes come thick and fast;
They wheel and curve from giddy height,
And speck the chilly air with white!
Come on, come on, you light-robed storm!
My fire within is blithe and warm,
And brightly glowing!
My robes are thick, my sledge is gay;
My champing steeds impatient neigh;
My silver-sounding bells are clear,
With music for the muffled ear;
And she within—my queenly bride—
Shall sit right gayly by my side;
Hurra! 'tis snowing!
SECOND VOICE.
Good God! 'tis snowing!
From out the dull and leaden clouds,
The surly storm impatient crowds;
It beats against my fragile door,
It creeps across my cheerless floor;
And through my pantry, void of fare,
And o'er my hearth, so cold and bare,
The wind is blowing;
And she who rests her weary head
Upon our hard and scanty bed,
Prays hopefully, but hopeless still,
For bright spring days and whip-poor-will;
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The frost is at her feet; and now
'Tis drearily snowing.
FIRST VOICE.
Hurra! 'tis snowing!
Snow on! ye can not stop our ride,
As o'er the white-paved road we glide:
Past forest trees thick draped with snow,
Past white-thatched houses, quaint and low;
Past rich-stored barn and stately herd,
Past well-filled sleigh and kindly word,
Right gayly going!
Snow on! for when our ride is o'er,
And once again we reach the door,
Our well-filled larder shall provide,
Our cellar-doors shall open wide;
And while without 'tis cold and drear,
Within, our board shall smile with cheer,
Although 'tis snowing!
SECOND VOICE.
Good God! 'tis snowing!
Rough men now bear, with hurried tread,
My pauper wife unto her bed;
And while, all crushed, but unresigned,
I cringe and follow close behind,
And while these scalding, bitter tears—
The first that stain my manhood years—
Are freely flowing,
Her waiting grave is open wide,
And into it the snow-flakes glide.
A mattress for her couch they wreathe;
And snow above, and snow beneath,
Must be the bed of her who prayed
The sun might shine where she was laid;
And still 'tis snowing!
| Farm legends | |