As he looked, his bride like a moth skimmed forth, and kneeling Quick, with quivering sighs, Gathered the pieces under the moon's sly ray, Unwitting as an automaton what she did;Till he entreated, hasting to where she was kneeling, Let it stay where it lies!""Long years of sorrow this means!" breathed the lady As they retired. "Alas!"And she lifted one pale hand across her eyes.
"Don't trouble, Love; it's nothing," the bridegroom said.
"Long years of sorrow for us!" murmured the lady, "Or ever this evil pass!"And the Spirits Ironic laughed behind the wainscot, And the Spirits of Pity sighed.
It's good," said the Spirits Ironic, "to tickle their minds With a portent of their wedlock's after-grinds."And the Spirits of Pity sighed behind the wainscot, "It's a portent we cannot abide!
"More, what shall happen to prove the truth of the portent?"--"Oh; in brief, they will fade till old, And their loves grow numbed ere death, by the cark of care."- "But nought see we that asks for portents there? -'Tis the lot of all."--"Well, no less true is a portent That it fits all mortal mould."THE ROBIN
When up aloft I fly and fly, I see in pools The shining sky, And a happy bird Am I, am I!
When I descend Towards their brink I stand, and look, And stoop, and drink, And bathe my wings, And chink and prink.
When winter frost Makes earth as steel I search and search But find no meal, And most unhappy Then I feel.
But when it lasts, And snows still fall, I get to feel No grief at all, For I turn to a cold stiff Feathery ball!
"I ROSE AND WENT TO ROU'TOR TOWN"
(She, alone)
I rose and went to Rou'tor Town With gaiety and good heart, And ardour for the start, That morning ere the moon was down That lit me off to Rou'tor Town With gaiety and good heart.
When sojourn soon at Rou'tor Town Wrote sorrows on my face, I strove that none should trace The pale and gray, once pink and brown, When sojourn soon at Rou'tor Town Wrote sorrows on my face.