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The Watcher By The Sea

The Watcher By The Sea image
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l ' . - - ONG years oí watch ing have dimmed her eyes, That ooce we re brght as stars i' the sea. And over her temples, liKc snow drift, lies The locks once shone witti the purpled dyes Of tho ried ripe (jrape in the tree. She dwells in a cottage hiiïh o'erfrowned By cljffs that shadow the breakers white, And Christmaá, ever it comes around, Still flnds her waiting, with holly crowned, Repeuti.-ig with voice of tremuloua sound: It is Chris mas eve and the time m pnsU Tho wa.ting and weeping are over at last, For my rovers come Home to-mght. ' The betls will r.ntr i' the hour, tney said- Blow softly what winde may blow- I hare decked with holly my Robbie's bed That coz ly stands in the room o'erhead, W th its linen as white as snow. As white as the snow on the window-sill, As wh te as the snow that is lying still On the still, white graves below. " Graves I only the weak and the oíd for graves ! We are strong, we have nothing to fearl Comes the grand, good snip o'er the 'ancing waves That brings to my bosom my rover braves, My ma, e and my boy so dear. "My mate and my red-cheeked Robbie tonight Ap.ain in my arms shall meet, And their thick curls gleam like gold i' the light Of the fire that never will burn so bright As when they sit at my feet. "He' 11 be ten years old when the clocU strikes three- Our Robbie- he's growing old! Last April it was that my mate and he- Who says they will never come back to me ! Ah, God ! but the night grows cold. "The night grows cold, but thej-'U soon bo aere- Was that a step at the gate? Or only the wind i' the lilac near- , The wind that startles mv soul with fer, The wind 1 worship - and hate. " I dreamed- when was it? a dream so dresd- I saw mysolf sitting here Awaiting my loves and there came instead Some strangers brlnging them into me dead, Both deud on a single bier. " With the drip, arip, drip of the salt sea brine, Drip, drip from their locks of gold; In their cold blue eyes there was nevor a sign- My dead mate ulasping his boy and mine, As dead as himself and cold. "A dream, but it froze up the founts of my soul. O warm with their ki3ses ril grow; The bel is are ringing - no, no, they toll! Yes, yes, I remember- blow wind! ocean rolll There is naught but a mound in the snow." Long years of watching have dimmed her eyes, That once were bright as stars f tho sca, And over her temples, like snowdrift, lies The locks once shone with the purple dyes Of the rich ripe grape in the tree.


Old News
Ann Arbor Register