| |
| THE BIRDS no more in dooryard trees are singing, | |
| The purple swallows all have left the eaves, | |
| And, thwart the sky, the broken clouds are winging, | |
| Shading the land-slopes bright with harvest sheaves. | |
| Old Hannah waits her sailor boy returning, | 5 |
| His fair young brow to-day she hopes to bless; | |
| But sees the red sun on the hill-tops burning, | |
| The flying cloud, the wild, cold gloominess | |
| Of Chaleur Bay. | |
| |
| The silver crown has touched her forehead lightly | 10 |
| Since last his hand was laid upon her hair, | |
| The golden crown will touch her brow more brightly | |
| Ere he again shall print his kisses there. | |
| The night comes on, the village sinks in slumber, | |
| The rounded moon illumes the water’s rim; | 15 |
| Each evening hour she hears the old clock number, | |
| But brings the evening no return of him | |
| To Chaleur Bay. | |
| |
| She heard low murmurs in the sandy reaches, | |
| And knew the sea no longer was at rest, | 20 |
| The black clouds scudded o’er the level beaches, | |
| And barred the moonlight on the ocean’s breast. | |
| The night wore on, and grew the shadows longer; | |
| Far in the distance of the silvered seas, | |
| Tides lapped the rocks, and blew the night-wind stronger, | 25 |
| Bending the pines and stripping bare the trees, | |
| Round Chaleur Bay. | |
| |
| Then Alice came; on Hannah’s breast reclining, | |
| She heard the leaves swift whistling in the breeze, | |
| And, through the lattice, saw the moon declining | 30 |
| In the deep shadows of the rainy seas. | |
| The fire burned warm,—upon the hearth was sleeping | |
| The faithful dog that used his steps to follow. | |
| “’T is almost midnight,” whispered Alice, weeping, | |
| While blew the winds more drearily and hollow | 35 |
| O’er Chaleur Bay. | |
| |
| No organ stands beneath the bust of Pallas, | |
| No painted Marius to the ruin clings, | |
| No Ganymede, borne up from airy Hellas, | |
| Looks through the darkness ’neath the eagles’ wings. | 40 |
| But the sweet pictures from the shadowed ceiling | |
| Reflect the firelight near old Hannah’s chair,— | |
| One a fair girl with features full of feeling, | |
| And one a boy, a fisher, young and fair, | |
| Of Chaleur Bay. | 45 |
| |
| That boy returns with humble presents laden, | |
| For on the morrow is his wedding morn; | |
| To the old church he hopes to lead the maiden | |
| Whose head now rests his mother’s breast upon. | |
| Now Hannah drops her cheek—the maiden presses— | 50 |
| “He will return when come the morning hours, | |
| And he will greet thee with his fond caresses, | |
| And thou shalt meet him diademed with flowers,” | |
| Sweet Chaleur Bay! | |
| |
| Gray was the morning, but a light more tender | 55 |
| Parted at last the storm-clouds’ lingering glooms, | |
| The sun looked forth in mellowness and splendor, | |
| Drying the leaves amid the gentian blooms, | |
| And wrecks came drifting to the sandy reaches, | |
| As inward rolled the tide with sullen roar; | 60 |
| The fishers wandered o’er the sea-washed beaches | |
| And gathered fragments as they reached the shore | |
| Of Chaleur Bay. | |
| |
| Then Alice, with the village maidens roaming | |
| Upon the beaches where the breakers swirl, | 65 |
| Espied a fragment mid the waters foaming, | |
| And found a casket, overlaid with pearl. | |
| It was a treasure. “Happy he who claimed it,” | |
| A maiden said; “’t is worthy of a bride.” | |
| Another maid “the ocean’s dowry” named it, | 70 |
| But gentle Alice, weeping, turned aside— | |
| Sad Chaleur Bay!— | |
| |
| And went to Hannah with the new-found treasure, | |
| And stood again beside the old arm-chair; | |
| The maids stood round her radiant with pleasure, | 75 |
| And playful wove the gentians in her hair. | |
| Then Hannah said, her feelings ill dissembling, | |
| “Some sailor lad this treasure once possessed; | |
| And now, perhaps,” she added, pale and trembling, | |
| “His form lies sleeping ’neath the ocean’s breast, | 80 |
| In Chaleur Bay.” | |
| |
| Now on her knee the opened box she places,— | |
| Her trembling hand falls helpless to her breast, | |
| Into her face look up two pictured faces, | |
| The faces that her sailor-boy loved best. | 85 |
| One picture bears the written words, “My Mother,” | |
| Old Hannah drops her wrinkled cheek in pain; | |
| “Alice”—sweet name—is writ beneath the other,— | |
| Old Hannah’s tears fall over it like rain— | |
| Dark Chaleur Bay! | 90 |
| |
| The spring will come, the purple swallow bringing, | |
| The green leaves glitter where the gold leaves fell, | |
| But nevermore the time of flowers and singing | |
| Will hope revive in her poor heart to dwell. | |
| Life ne’er had brought to her so dark a chalice, | 95 |
| But from her lips escaped no bitter groan; | |
| They mid the gentians made the grave of Alice, | |
| And Hannah lives in her old cot alone | |
| On Chaleur Bay. | |
| |
