Читать книгу Carols of Canada, Etc., Etc - E. S. MacLeod - Страница 13
THE WOODS AND THE SEA.
ОглавлениеThey gathered round with feeling heart,
From hamlet far and near; They strove in vain, with kindly words,
Her stricken soul to cheer. For over the night of anguish
Dawned never break of day; That sun which sank in frowning skies
Left ne'er a softening ray.
Oh broken heart! Oh empty life! Oh sad, low monotone! "The woods and the sea have ruined me; Alone! yea all alone!"
She'd left her peaceful, native shores
And dared the stormy wave With him whose troth was love and truth;
The young, the strong and brave. They raised a cabin on the wild,
In shade of branching tree; And there the mother reared the child,
And time passed merrily.
Toil reaped the gain of comfort sweet;
And by the fireside blaze, Glad souls went up in grateful song,
In voice of joy and praise. Sweet lyrics of the heather land
The evening hours beguiled; While age re-lived its youth once more,
And happy childhood smiled.
Dark shadows mar the brightest heaven,
And, sharp as warning bell, Sore tidings of their sailor's death
Upon that homestead fell. Then, when the winter spread earth's shroud
Of pure white, glistening snow, Upon those mourners fell apace
A still more bitter blow.
All night, amid the biting frost,
With darkest gloom o'er head, Upon the fir-tree's broken boughs
Three wanderers made their bed. But, ere the dawn had streaked the sky
With glorious hues of day, The brightest life e'er blessed a home
Was stilled in death for aye.
The seasons cycled; peaceful years
Again verged into woe; By fatal stroke of falling tree
The silvered head lay low. She stood beside the aged form;
Her brain seemed all on fire;— The billows rolled, the forest waved
O'er fated sons and sire.
Oh narrow bounds of earthly ill!
Oh sad and suffering throng! Oh ye! who drink the bitter cup;
It cannot be for long. The woe-worn frame now resteth well;
The soul hath found its own; Where shades of earth no more may blight,
In lustre of the Throne.
No more she sings, in lonely grief Her weary monotone: "The woods and the sea have ruined me; Alone! yea, all alone!"
