Read Ebook: Hellflower by Smith George O George Oliver Rose William William F Illustrator

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Ebook has 1755 lines and 69712 words, and 36 pages

'Twas I that cried against the pane on All Souls' Night You filled the room I knew with yellow candlelight And cheered the lass beside you when she cried in fear.

'Twas I that went beside you in the gray wood-mist You only frowned and shuddered as you bent and kissed The lass hard by you, handfast, as I used to go.

'Twas I that stood to greet you on the churchyard pave You smiled in careless dreaming as you crossed my grave And hummed a little love-song where they buried me!

ALL-SOULS' NIGHT: DORA SIGERSON

O mother, mother, I swept the hearth, I set his chair and the white board spread, I prayed for his coming to our kind Lady when Death's doors would let out the dead; A strange wind rattled the window-pane, and down the lane a dog howled on, I called his name and the candle flame burnt dim, pressed a hand the door-latch upon. Deelish! Deelish! my woe forever that I could not sever coward flesh from fear. I called his name and the pale ghost came; but I was afraid to meet my dear.

O mother, mother, in tears I checked the sad hours past of the year that's o'er, Till by God's grace I might see his face and hear the sound of his voice once more; The chair I set from the cold and wet, he took when he came from unknown skies Of the land of the dead, on my bent brown head I felt the reproach of his saddened eyes; I closed my lids on my heart's desire, crouched by the fire, my voice was dumb. At my clean-swept hearth he had no mirth, and at my table he broke no crumb. Deelish! Deelish! my woe forever that I could not sever coward flesh from fear. His chair put aside when the young cock cried, and I was afraid to meet my dear.

JANET'S TRYST: GEORGE MACDONALD

"Sweep up the flure, Janet, Put on anither peat. It's a lown and starry nicht, Janet, And neither cold nor weet.

And it's open hoose we keep the nicht For ony that may be oot; It's the nicht atween the Sancts an' Souls Whan the bodiless gang aboot.

Set the chairs back to the wall, Janet, Mak' ready for quaiet fowk, Hae a' thing as clean as a windin'-sheet-- They comena ilka ook.

There's a spale upo' the flure, Janet, And there's a rowan berry. Sweep them into the fire, Janet,-- They'll be welcomer than merry.

Syne set open the door, Janet,-- Wide open for wha kens wha: As ye come to your bed, Janet, Set it open to the wa'."

She set the chairs back to the wa', But ane made of the birk, She swept the flure, but left ane spale, A long spale o' the aik.

The nicht was lown, and the stars sat still A-glintin' doon the sky: And the sauls crept oot o' their mooly graves, A' dank wi' lyin' by.

When midnight came the mither rase-- She wad gae see an' hear. Back she cam' wi' a glowrin' face, An' sloomin' wi' verra fear.

"There's ane o' them sittin' afore the fire! Janet, gae na to see; Ye left a chair afore the fire, Whaur I tauld ye nae chair sud be."

Janet she smiled in her mither's face: She had brunt the roddin reid: And she left aneath the birken chair The spale frae a coffin lid.

She rase and she gaed but the hoose, Aye steekin' door and door, Three hours gaed by ere her mother heard Her fit upo' the flure.

But whan the grey cock crew she heard The soun' o' shoeless feet, Whan the red cock crew she heard the door An' a sough o' wind an' weet.

An' Janet cam' back wi' a wan face, But never a word said she; No man ever heard her voice lood oot-- It cam' like frae ower the sea.

And no man ever heard her lauch, Nor yet say alas nor wae; But a smile aye glimmert on her wan face Like the moonlicht on the sea.

And ilka nicht 'twixt the Sancts an' Souls Wide open she set the door; And she mendit the fire, and she left ae chair And that spale upo' the flure.

And at midnicht she gaed but the hoose, Aye steekin' door and door. Whan the red cock crew she cam' ben the hoose, Aye wanner than before.

Wanner her face and sweeter her smile, Till the seventh All-Souls Eve Her mither she heard the shoeless feet, Says "She's comin', I believe."

But she camna ben, an' her mither lay; For fear she cudna stan', But up she rase an' ben she gaed Whan the gowden cock hed crawn.

And Janet sat upo' the chair, White as the day did daw, Her smile was as sunlight left on the sea Whan the sun has gane awa.

HALLOWS' E'EN: WINIFRED M. LETTS

The girls are laughing with the boys, and gaming by the fire, They're wishful, every one of them, to see her heart's desire, Twas Thesie cut the barnbrack and found the ring inside, Before next Hallows' E'en has dawned herself will be a bride. But little Mollie stands alone outside the cabin door, And breaks her heart for one the waves threw dead upon the shore.

Twas Katie's nut lepped from the hearth, and left poor Pat's alone But Ellen's stayed by Christy Byrne's upon the wide hearthstone. An' all the while the childher bobbed for apples set afloat, The old men smoked their pipes and talked about the foundered boat, But Mollie walked upon the cliff, and never feared the rain; She called the name of one she loved and bid him come again.

Young Peter pulled the cabbage-stump to win a wealthy wife, Rosanna threw the apple-peel to know who'd share her life; And Lizzie had a looking-glass she'd hid in some dark place To try if there, foreninst her own, she'd see her comrade's face. But Mollie walked along the quay where Terry's feet had trod, And sobbed her grief out in the night, with no one near but God.

She heard the laughter from the house, she heard the fiddle played; She called her dead love to her side--why should she be afraid? She took his cold hands in her own, she had no thought of dread, And not a star looked out to watch the living kiss the dead.

The lads are gaming with the girls, and laughing by the fire. But Mollie in the cold, dark night, has found her heart's desire.

ON KINGSTON BRIDGE: ELLEN M.H. CORTISSOZ

On Kingston Bridge the starlight shone Through hurrying mists in shrouded glow; The boding night-wind made its moan, The mighty river crept below. 'Twas All Souls' Night, and to and fro The quick and dead together walked, The quick and dead together talked, On Kingston Bridge.

Two met who had not met for years; Once was their hate too deep for fears: One drew his rapier as he came, Upleapt his anger like a flame. With clash of mail he faced his foe, And bade him stand and meet him so. He felt a graveyard wind go by Cold, cold as was his enemy. A stony horror held him fast. The Dead looked with a ghastly stare, And sighed "I know thee not," and passed Like to the mist, and left him there On Kingston Bridge.

'Twas All Souls' Night, and to and fro The quick and dead together walked, The quick and dead together talked, On Kingston Bridge.

Two met who had not met for years: With grief that was too deep for tears They parted last. He clasped her hand, and in her eyes He sought Love's rapturous surprise. "Oh, Sweet!" he cried, "hast thou come back To say thou lov'st thy lover still?" --Into the starlight, pale and cold, She gazed afar--her hand was chill: "Dost thou remember how we kept Our ardent vigils?--how we kissed?-- Take thou these kisses as of old!" An icy wind about him swept; "I know thee not," she sighed, and passed Into the dim and shrouding mist On Kingston Bridge.

'Twas All Souls' Night, and to and fro The quick and dead together walked, The quick and dead together talked, On Kingston Bridge.

ALL SOULS' NIGHT: LOUISA HUMPHREYS

Canice the priest went out on the Night of Souls; "Stay, oh stay," said the woman who served his board "Stay, for the path is strait with pits and holes, And the night is dark and the way is lone abroad; Stay within because it is lone, at least." "Nay, it will not be lone," said Canice the priest.

Dim without, and a dim, low-sweeping sky; A scent of earth in the night, of opened mould; A listening pause in the night--and a breath passed by-- And its touch was cold, was cold as the graves are cold Canice went on to the waste where no men be; "Nay, I will not be lone to-night," said he.

Shades that flit, besides the shades of the night; Rustling sobs besides the sobs of the wind; Steps of feet that pace with his on the right, Steps that pace on the left, and steps behind. "Nay, no fear that I shall be lone, at least! Lo, there are throngs abroad," said Canice the priest.

Deathly hands that pluck at his cassock's hem; Sighings of earthly breath that smite his cheek; Canice the priest swings on, atune with them, Hears the throbbings of pain, and hears them speak; Hears the word they utter, and answers "Yea! Yea, poor souls, for I heed; I pray, I pray."

Lo, a gleam of gray, and the dark is done; Hark, a bird that trills a song of the light. Canice hies him home by the shine of the sun. What to-day of those pallid wraiths of the night? What of the woeful notes that had wailed and fled? "Maria, ora pro illis!" Canice said.

"ALL THE LITTLE SIGHING SOULS"

MARY SHEPHERDESS: MARJORIE L.C. PICKTHALL

When the heron's in the high wood and the last long furrow's sown With the herded cloud before her and her sea-sweet raiment blown Comes Mary, Mary Shepherdess, a-seeking for her own.

Saint James he calls the righteous folk, Saint John he calls the kind, Saint Peter seeks the valiant men all to loose or bind, But Mary seeks the little souls that are so hard to find.

All the little sighing souls born of dust's despair, They who fed on bitter bread when the world was bare, Frighted of the glory gates and the starry stair.

All about the windy down, housing in the ling, Underneath the alder-bough linnet-light they cling, Frighted of the shining house where the martyrs sing.

Crying in the ivy-bloom, fingering at the pane, Grieving in the hollow dark, lone along the lane, Mary, Mary Shepherdess gathers them again.

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