2. Over the river the boatman pale
Carried another, the household pet;
Her brown curls waved in the gentle gale:
Darling Minnie! I see her yet.
She crossed on her bosom her dimpled hands
And fearlessly entered the phantom bark;
We watched it glide from the silver sands,
And all our sunshine grew strangely dark.
We know she is safe on the further side,
Where all the ransomed and angels be;
Over the river, the mystic river,
My childhood's idol is waiting for me.
3. For none return from those quiet shores
Who cross with the boatman cold and pale ;
We hear the dip of the golden oars,
And catch a gleam of the snowy sail,
And, lo! they have passed from our yearning heart;
They cross the stream, and are gone for aye:
We may not sunder the veil apart
That hides from our vision the gates of day;
We only know that their bark no more
May sail with us o'er life's stormy sea;
Yet somewhere, I know, on the unseen shore,
They watch, and beckon, and wait for me.
4. And I sit and think, when the sunset's gold Is flushing river and hill and shore,
I shall one day stand by the water cold,
And list for the sound of the boatman's oar;
I shall watch for a gleam of the flapping sail
I shall hear the boat as it gains the strand ;
I shall pass from sight, with the boatman pale,
To the better shore of the spirit-land.
I shall know the loved who have gone before,
And joyfully sweet will the meeting be,
When over the river, the peaceful river,
The Angel of Death shall carry me.
DEFINITIONS.-1. Beek'on, to make a sign to another. tion, an image given back from any surface. 2. Phăn'tom, that which has only an apparent existence. Răn’somed, redeemed. Mys'tie, obscure, mysterious. 3. Yearn'ing, filled with a longing desire. 4. Flush'ing, causing to glow. Strand, shore or beach.
JEAN INGELOW was born at Ipswich, England, in 1830. She first became known through her poems, which are graceful and melodious. She is especially attractive to children in such works as Songs of Seven and Mopsa the Fairy. Her novels are very original in plot and style. Of these, Off the Skelligs and Fated to be Free are companion-books. Studies for Stories, in two series, are among her earlier prose works; Sara de Berenger and Don John are her later publications. Her prose shows even greater power than her poetry, and at the same time is full of those delicate touches and beautiful descriptions which are the charm of her poems.
Who sat and listened to the raging sea,
And heard it thunder, lunging at the cliffs
As like to tear them down. He lay at night,
And "Lord have mercy on the lads," said he,
"That sailed at noon, though they be none of mine!
For when the gale gets up, and when the wind
Flings at the window, when it beats the roof,
And lulls, and stops, and rouses up again,
And cuts the crest clean off the plunging wave,
And scatters it like feathers up the field,
Why, then I think of my two lads,—my lads
That would have worked and never let me want,
And never let me take the parish pay.
2. "No, none of mine: my lads were drowned at seaMy two-before the most of these were born.
I know how sharp that cuts, since my poor wife Walked up and down, and still walked up and down, And I walked after, and one could not hear
A word the other said, for wind and sea,
That raged and beat and thundered in the night,—
The awfulest, the longest, lightest night
That ever parents had to spend. A moon
That shone like daylight on the breaking wave.
Ah, me! and other men have lost their lads,
And other women wiped their poor dead mouths,
And got them home and dried them in the house,
And seen the drift-wood lie along the coast,
That was a tidy boat but one day back,
And seen next tide the neighbors gather it
To lay it on their fires.
And able-bodied,-loved my work; but now
I am a useless hull; 'tis time I sunk;
I am in all men's way; I trouble them;
I am a trouble to myself; but yet
I feel for mariners of stormy nights,
And feel for wives that watch ashore. Ay, ay,
If I had learning I would pray the Lord
To bring them in; but I'm no scholar, no;
Book-learning is a world too hard for me;
But I make bold to say: 'O Lord, good Lord,
I am a broken-down poor man, a fool
To speak to Thee; but in the Book 'tis writ,
As I hear say from others that can read,
How, when Thou camest, Thou didst love the sea,
And live with fisher-folk, whereby 'tis sure
Thou knowest all the peril they go through,
And all their trouble.
"As for me, good Lord,
I have no boat; I am too old, too old:
My lads are drowned; I buried my poor wife;
My little lasses died so long ago
That mostly I forget what they were like.
Thou knowest, Lord: they were such little ones,
I know they went to Thee; but I forget
Their faces, though I missed them sore.
I was a strong man; I have drawn good food
And made good money out of Thy great sea;
But yet I cried for them at nights; and now,
Although I be so old, I miss my lads,
And there be many folk this stormy night
Heavy with fear for theirs. Merciful Lord,
Comfort them; save their honest boys, their pride,
And let them hear, next ebb, the blessedest
Best sound, the boat-keels grating on the sand.'
6. "I cannot pray with finer words: I know
Nothing; I have no learning,-cannot learn:-
Too old, too old! They say I want for naught,
I have the parish pay; but I am dull
Of hearing, and the fire scarce warms me through.
God save me,---I have been a sinful man,-
And save the lives of them that still can work,
For they are good to me, ay, good to me.
But, Lord, I am a trouble; and I sit,
And I am lonesome; and the nights are few
think to come and draw a chair
And sit in my poor place and talk awhile.
Why should they come, forsooth? Only the wind
Knocks at my door; oh, long and loud it knocks,—
The only thing God made that has a mind
Yea, thus the old man spake :
These were the last words of his aged mouth;
BUT ONE DID KNOCK. One came to sup with him,
That humble, weak old man,-knocked at his door
In the rough pauses of the laboring wind.
I tell you that One knocked while it was dark
Save where their foaming passion had made white
Those livid seething billows. What He said
In that poor place where He did talk awhile
I cannot tell; but this I am assured,
That when the neighbors came the morrow morn,
What time the wind had bated, and the sun
Shone on the old man's floor, they saw the smile
He passed away in; and they said, "He looks
As he had woke and seen the face of Christ,
And with that rapturous smile held out his arms
To come to Him.”
DEFINITIONS.-1. Lũng'ing, thrusting or pushing. 6. For sooth', in truth. 7. Liv'id, lead-colored. Seeth'ing, boiling. As sured', made certain of. Bat'ed, decreased in violence.
NOTE.-1. Parish pay, an allowance made by a parish for the support of its poor.
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