"I marked her cheek yet paler grow, That she was near to die, And hourly was my earnest prayer for her on high. Put up "Oh, what a wo seemed then to us, But, like a frightened thing, my heart "We rarely left my mother's side, At length, oh joy beyond all joys! In quiet sleep, methought below "I rose, and on the chamber stair, I should have swooned, but for the thought "I cannot tell you how we met; "That Marc returned in joy to us, To tell how great that bliss, would need "His lightest tone, his very step, She rose again, like one revived "The story that my brother told Was long, and full of joy ; Scarce to the city had he come, A poor and friendless boy, Than he chanced to meet a merchant good, From whom he asked employ. "The merchant was a childless man; And in my brother's face Something he saw that moved his heart To such unusual grace; 'My son,' said he, 'is dead, wilt thou Supply to me his place?' "Even then, bound to the golden East, And this new bond of love was formed "The letter that he wrote to us, It never reached our hand; And while we drooped with anxious love, And saw a thousand wondrous things, And many rich and curious things, He brought, as if to realize The tales he had to tell; My mother smiled, and wept, and smiled, And listened, and grew well. "The merchant loved him more and more, And did a father's part; And blessed my brother for the love "So do not droop, my gentle friend, And ofttimes moveth human hearts ELLEN MORE. "SWEET Ellen More," said I, 66 Beneath the sunny sky ; Why stand you musing all alone, come forth With such an anxious eye? What is it, child, that aileth you?" And thus she made reply: "The fields are green, the skies are bright, The leaves are on the tree, And 'mong the sweet flowers of the thyme Far flies the honey-bee; And the lark hath sung since morning prime, And merrily singeth he. "Yet not for this shall I go forth "And why?" said I, "what is there here Beside your cottage door, To make a merry girl like you Thus idly stand to pore? There is a mystery in this thing, Now tell me, Ellen More!" The fair girl looked into my face, Then heaved a quiet sigh; "Three years ago, unknown to us, "That winter was a weary time, A long, dark time of wo, For we knew not in what ship he sailed, And vainly sought to know; And day and night the loud, wild winds Seemed evermore to blow. "My mother lay upon her bed, Her spirit solely tossed With dismal thoughts of storm and wreck Upon some savage coast; But morn and eve we prayed to Heaven That he might not be lost. "And when the pleasant spring came on, And fields again were green, He sent a letter full of news, Of the wonders he had seen; Praying us to think him dutiful As he afore had been |