Democratic Sentinel, Volume 17, Number 21, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 June 1893 — A DEATH AND A LIFE. [ARTICLE]

A DEATH AND A LIFE.

BY LUCY LARCOM.

Fair young Haunah, Bon, the sunburnt fisher, gayly wo as; Hale and clever, For a willing heart and hand lie sues. May-day skies are all aglow. And the waves are laughing so ! For her wedding Hannah leaves her window and her shoos. May is passing; ’Mid the apple boughs a pigeon coos. Hannah shudders. For the mild southwester mischief brews. Round the rocks of Marblehead, Outward bound, a schooner sped. Silent, lonesome. Hannah’s at the window binding shoes. • ••».. Sailing away! Losing the breath of the slio -es in May, Dropping down from the beautiful bay, Over the sea slope vast and gray 1 And the skipper's eyes with a mist, arc blind, For a vision comes on the rising wind Of a gentle face that he leaves behind, and a heart that throbs through the fog bank dim, Thinking of him. Far into night He watches the gleam of the lessening light Fixed on the dangerous island height That bars the harbor he loves from sight, And he wishes, at dawn, he could tell the tale Of how they weathered the southwest gale, To brighten the cheek that had grown so pale With a wakeful night among spectres grim— Terrors for him. Yo-heave-yo! •Here’s the bank where the fishermen go. Over the schooner’s side they throw Tackleand bait to the deeps below, And Skipper Ben in the water sees, When its ripples curl to the light land breeze, Something that stirs like his apple trees, And two soft eyes that beneath them swim, Lifted to him.

Hear the wind roar, And the rain through the slit sails tear and pour! “Steady! we'll scud by the Cape Ann shore, Then hark to the Beverly bells once more!” And each man worked with the will often; While up in the rigging, now and then, The lightning glared in the face of Ben, Turned to the black horizon’s rim, Scowling on him. Into his brain Burned with the iron of hopeless pain, Into thoughts that grapple and eyes that strain, Pierces the memory, cruel and vain— Never again shall lie walk at ease Under the blossoming apple trees That whisper and sway to the sunset breeze, While soft eyes fioat where the sea gulls skim, Gaziug with him. How they wont down Never was known in the still old town. Nobody guessed how tho fisherman brown, With the look of despair that was half a frown, Faced his fate in the furious night— Faced the mad billows with hunger white, Just within hail of tho beacon light That shone on a woman sweet and trim, Waiting for him.

Beverly bells Bing to the tide as it ebbs and swells ! His was the anguish a moment tells The passionate sorrow death quickly knells. , Bat the we iriug wash of a lifelong woe left for the desolate heart to know, whmse tides with the dull yo .rs come and go, Till slope drifts dead to its stagnant brim, *\ Thinking of him. • V s • • • Pooir lone Hannah, Sitting at the window bindin ' shoes, Faded, wrinkled, Sitting, stitching, in a mournful muse, Bright-eyed beauty once was she, When the bloom was on the tree; Spring and winter, Hannah’s at the window, binding shore. Not a neighbor Passing nod or answer will refuse To her whisper; “Is there from the fishers any news? Oh, her heart’s adrift with one On an endless voyage gone! Night and morning, Hannah’s at the window, binding shoes. ’Tis November, Now no tear her wasted cheek bed jws, From Newfoundlands Not a sail returning will she lose, Whispering hoarsely, “Fishermen, Have you, have you hrard of Ban V” Old with watching, Hannah’s at the window, binding shoe*. Twenty winters Bleach and tear the ragged shore she views. Twenty seasons— Never one has brought her any news. Still her cim eyes silently Chase the white sails o’er the sea. Hopeless, faithful, Hannah’s at the window, binding oho s.