The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1893-05-17

For the mild Southwestern mischief brews.
Round the rocks of Marblehead,
Outward bound. schooner sped.
Silent, lonesome,
Hannah's at the window, binding shoes.
Sailing away
Losing the breath of tho shores In May.
Dropping down from the beautiful bay,
Over the sea slope vast and gray!
And the shippers eyes with a mist are
blind,
For n vision comes on the rising wind
OF a gentle face that he leaves behind.
And heart that throbs through the fog
bank dim
Thinking OF him.
Far into night
lie watches the geam OF the lcsscning light
Fixed on the danger jus island height
That bars the harbor he loves from sight
And he wishes, at dawn, he could tell the
tale
OF how they weathered the southwest ga'e,
To brighten the cheek that had grown so
pale
With wnkefui night among spectres grim
Terrors for II IN.
Yo-hesve-yol
Here's the bank where the fishermen go.
Over the schooner's side they throw
Tackle and bait to the deeps below.
And skipper Ben in the water sees,
When its ripples curl to the light land
breeze,
Something that stirs like ais apple trees,
And two soft eyes that beneath them swim,
Lifted to him,
Hear the wind roar,
And the rain through the slit sails tear aud
pour!
"Steadyl well scud by the Cape Ann shore,
Then hark TO the Beverly bells once morew
And e'ch man worked with the will Of ten;
While up in the rigging, now and then,
The lightning glared In the face of Ben,
Turned to the black horizons rim,
Scowling on him.
Into his brain
Burned with the iron OF hopeless pain.
Into thoughts that grapple and eyes that
strain,
Pierces the memory, cruel and vain
Never again shall lie walk at ease
Under the blossoming apple trees
That whisper and sway to the sunset breeze,
While soft eyes float where the sea gulls
skim.
Gazing with him.
How they went down
Never wa' known in the still old town.
Nobody guessed how the fisherman brown.
with the look Of despair that was half a
frown,
Faced his fate In the furious night
Faced the mad flows with hunger white,
just within hail of the beacon light
That shone OH woman sweet aud trim,
Waiting for him.
Beverly bell,
Ring to the tile a. It ebbs and swells!
His was the anguish moment tells
The passionate sorrow death quickly knels.
But the wearing wash of lifelong woe
Is left for the dcsolate heart to know,
Whose tides with the dull years come and
go,
Till hope drifts dead to It's stagnant brim,
Thinking of him.
Poor lone Hannah.
Sitting at the window binding shoes,
Faded. wrinkled.
Sitting, stitching, In mournful muse,
Bright-eyed beauty once was she,
When the bloom was on the tree;
Spring and Winter,
Hannahs at the window, binding shoes.
Not a neighbor
Passing nod or answer will refuse
To her whisper:
"Is there from the fishers any newsy'
Oh her hearts adriit with one
On an endless voyage gone!
Night and morning,
Hannal's at the window, binding shoes.
'Tis November.
Now no tear her wasted cheek bedews.
From Newfoundland
Not a sail returning will she lose,
Whispering hoarsely, FISHERMEN,
Have you, have you heard OF Beny'
Old with watching,
Hannah's at the window, binding shoes.
Twenty Winters
Bleach and tear the ragged shore she views.
Twenty seasons
Never one has brought her any news.
Still her dim eyes silently
Chase the white sails DER the sea.
n Hopeless, faithful,
Hannah's at the window, binding shoes.
-[Jucy Larcom.
SAVED BY A CALF.
''The whole course of my lifc was
changed, and my loves young dream
ilaatroYed In less than a minnta Inv n