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She cannot love; she loves her at Had graspt a daisy from your Mother's And all her talk was of the babe
Her firm will, her fix'd purpose. Por By the lush gate was Muriel. “Ay,' she So, following her old pastime of t

said,

brook,
ise me,
Miriam not Muriel - she shall have

d'Among the tombs in this damp vale of She threw the fly for me; but often
yours!

left child

health And there the light of other life, wd You scorn my Mother's warning, but the That angling to the mother. Muriel

Had weaken'd, nursing little Miriar
Beyond our burial and our buried ees Is paler than before. We often walk

Strange!
Gleam'd for a moment in her own In open sun, and see beneath our feet

The mist of autumn gather from your She used to shun the wailing babe, an
lake,

dotes And shroud the tower; and once we On this of yours. But when the matı only saw

saw Your gilded vane, a light above the That hinted love was only wasted bait, mist'

Not risen to, she was bolder. Eve (Our old bright bird that still is veering since there

You sent the fatal ring - I told he light,

To Miriam,' 'Doubtless -- ay, but ever
She said," was like that light' — and there since

In all the world my dear one sees bu
And long; till I believing that the girl's
Lean fancy
, groping for it, could not

you -
In your sweet babe she finds but you

she makes

earth.
I swore the vow, then with my best

kiss
Upon them, closed her eyes, which mal

not close,
But kept their watch upon the ring a

you.
Your birthday was her death-day,

O poor Mothe Above his four gold letters) and the
Miriam.
And you, poor desolate Father,

poor me,
The little senseless, worthless, words

babe,
Saved when your life was wreck'd!
Desolate as that sailor, whom the storu One likeness, laugh'd a little and found Her heart a mirror that reflects but you.

Father.
And dash'd half dead on barren so 'A warrior's crest above the cloud of
Nay, you were my one solace; only 'A fiery phoenix rising from the smoke,

was I.

you
Were always ailing. Muriel's mother

sent,
And sure am I, by Muriel, one day car
And saw you, shook her head, and paits And spoke no more, but turn'd and Gratitude - loneliness-desire to keep
And smiled, and making with a kunMiriam, I am not surely one of those

yours,

pinch
That should be fix'd,' she said; yt But after ten slow weeks her fix'd intent,
So blighted here, would flower into fd To strike it, struck; I took, I left you

health
Among our heath and bracken. Letba 1
And we will feed her with our mounted for Muriel nursed you with a mother's
And send her home to you rejoici All on that clear and heather-scented

air,

No-
We could not part. And once, who The rounder cheek had brighten'd into
Rode on my shoulder home--the to She always came to meet me carrying

fist

And then the tear fell, the voice broke.

Her heart! war'

I gazed into the mirror, as a man

Who sees his face in water, and a stone, The pyre he burnt in. — 'Nay,' she said, That glances from the bottom of the That glimmers on the marsh and on the Strike upward thro' the shadow; yet at

pool, grave.!

last,

So skilled a nurse about you always

nay! Caught by the flower that closes on the Some half remorseful kind of pity toofly,

Well! well, you know I married Muriel

Erne.
In aiming at an all but hopeless mark "I take thee Muriel for my wedded

wife'-
there;

I had forgotten it was your birthday, came, I went, was happier day by

child When all at once with some electric

thrill care;

A cold air pass'd between us, and the

hands height

Fell from each other, and were join’d

again. No second cloudless honeymoon was

mine. you,

For by and by she sicken'd of the farce,

And all her talk was of the babe she

loved; So, following her old pastime of the

brook, She threw the fly for me; but oftener

left That angling to the mother. Muriel's

health Had weaken'd, nursing little Miriam.

Strange! She used to shun the wailing babe, and

dotes On this of yours. But when the matı.'n

saw

Had graspt a daisy from your Mother's

grave By the lych-gate was Muriel. “Ay,' she

said, ' Among the tombs in this damp vale of

yours ! You scorn my Mother's warning, but the

child Is paler than before. We often walk In open sun, and see beneath our feet The mist of autumn gather from your

lake, And shroud the tower; and once we

only saw Your gilded vane, a light above the

mist' (Our old bright bird that still is veering

there Above his four gold letters) and the

light,' She said, ' was like that light' - and there

she paused, And long; till I believing that the girl's Lean fancy, groping for it, could not

find One likeness, laugh'd a little and found

her two A warrior's crest above the cloud of

war'

A fiery phenix rising from the smoke, The pyre he burnt in.' – Nay,' she said,

"the light That glimmers on the marsh and on the

grave.' Ind spoke no more, but turn'd and

pass'd away. Miriam, I am not surely one of those Caught by the flower that closes on the

fly, But after ten slow weeks her fix'd intent, n aiming at an all but hopeless mark Co strike it, struck; I took, I left you

there; came, I went, was happier day by

day; for Muriel nursed you with a mother's

care; Cill on that clear and heather-scented

height The rounder cheek had brighten'd into

bloom. she always came to meet me carrying

you,

That hinted love was only wasted bait, Not risen to, she was bolder. Ever

since You sent the fatal ring - I told her

sent To Miriam,' 'Doubtless -- ay, but ever,

since In all the world my dear one sees but

you In your sweet babe she finds but you –

she makes Her heart a mirror that reflects but you.' And then the tear fell, the voice broke.

Her heart! I gazed into the mirror, as a man Who sees his face in water, and a stone, That glances from the bottom of the

pool, Strike upward thro' the shadow; yet at

last, Gratitude -- loneliness desire to keep So skilled a nurse about you always —

nay! Some half remorseful kind of pity too Well! well, you know I married Muriel

Erne.
I take thee Muriel for my wedded

wife'I had forgotten it was your birthday,

child When all at once with some electric

thrill A cold air pass'd between us, and the

hands Fell from each other, and were join'd

again. No second cloudless honeymoon was

mine, For by and by she sicken'd of the farce,

men

She dropt the gracious mask of mother

hood, She came no more to meet me, carrying

you, Nor ever cared to set you on her knee, Nor ever let you gambol in her sight, Nor ever cheer'd you with a kindly

smile, Nor ever ceased to clamour for the ring; Why had I sent the ring at first to her? Why had I made her love me thro' the

ring, And then had changed? so fickle are

- the best! Not she -- but now my love was hers

again, The ring by right, she said, was hers

again. At times too shrilling in her angrier

moods, "That weak and watery nature love you?

No! Io t'amo, lo t'amo"!'fung herself Against my heart, but often while her

lips Were warm

upon my cheek, an icy breath, As from the grating of a sepulchre, Past over both. I told her of my vow, No pliable idiot I to break my vow; But still she made her outcry for the

ring; For one monotonous fancy madden'd her, Till I myself was madden'd with her

cry, And even that Io t'amo,' those three

sweet Italian words, became a weariness. My people too were scared with eerie

sounds, A footstep, a low throbbing in the walls, A noise of falling weights that never

fell, Weird whispers, bells that rang without

a hand, Door-handles turn'd when none was at

the door, And bolted doors that open’d of them

selves : And one betwixt the dark and light had

Miriam. And I remember once +

being waked By noises in the house — and no o

near I cried for nurse, and felt a gentle ta Fall on my forehead, and a sudden tas Look'd in upon me like a gleam e

pass'd And I was quieted, and slept again. Or is it some half memory of a dream Father. Your fifth September bir

day. Miriam. And the face, The hand,

my Mother. Father.

Miriam, on that Two lovers parted by no scurrilous taleMere want of gold and still for tres

years Bound by the golden cord of their is

love Had ask'd us to their marriage, and :

share Their marriage-banquet. Muriel, pes

then Than ever you were in your crate

moan'd, • I am fitter for my bed, or for my gtar I cannot go, go you.' And then se

rose, She clung to me with such a hard

brace, So lingeringly long, that half-amared I parted from her, and I went alone. And when the bridegroom mumrl.

. With this ring,' I felt for what I could not find, the is The guardian of her relics, of her ring I kept it as a sacred amulet About me, – gone! and gone in the

embrace ! Then, hurrying home, I found hers

in house Or garden

up the tower— an icy at Fled by me.— There, the chest was opera

-- all The sacred relics tost about the floor Among them Muriel lying on her faz. I raised her, call'd her, Muriel, Va

wake!' The fatal ring lay near her; the glared Glared at me as in horror. Dead! I

seen

eye

Her, bending by the cradle of her

took

babe.

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And chafed the freezing hand. A red

mark ran All round one finger pointed straight,

the rest Were crumpled inwards. Dead !-- and

maybe stung With some remorse, had stolen, worn the

ring
Then torn it from her finger, or as if -
For never had I seen her show remorse --
As if

Miriam. - those two Ghost Lovers -
Father.

- lovers yet
Miriam. Yes, yes!
Father. - but dead so long, gone up

so far, That now their ever-rising life has

dwarf'd Or lost the moment of their past on

earth,
As we forget our wail at being born.
As if --

Miriam. a dearer ghost had-
Father.

wrench'd it away. Miriam. Had floated in with sad

reproachful eyes, Till from her own hand she had torn the

ring In fright, and fallen dead. And I my

self Am half afraid to wear it. Father.

Well, no more! No bridal music this! but fear not you! You have the ring she guarded; that

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II.

• Who was witness of the crime?

Who shall now reveal it?
He is fled, or he is dead,

Marriage will conceal it
In the night, in the night,
While the gloom is growing.'

III.

Catherine, Catherine, in the night,

What is this you're dreaming? There is laughter down in Hell

At your simple scheming .
In the night, in the night,
When the ghosts are fleeting.

poor link

IV.

With earth is broken, and has left her

free, Except that, still drawn downward for

an hour, Her spirit hovering by the church, where

she Was married too, may linger, till she

You to place a hand in his

Like an honest woman's, You that lie with wasted lungs

Waiting for your summons
In the night, O the night,
O the deathwatch beating !

sees

V.

Her maiden coming like a Queen, who

leaves Some colder province in the North to

gain Her capital city, where the loyal bells Clash welcome - linger, till her own, the

babe She lean'd to from her Spiritual sphere, Her lonely maiden-Princess, crown'd with

flowers,

There will come a witness soon

Hard to be confuted,
All the world will hear a voice

Scream you are polluted ..
In the night, () the night,
When the owls are wailing!

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