Poems Teachers Ask For Volume I Part 26

But, sad mischance! the loosened snow Comes sliding down, to plunge below.

And as he tumbles with the slide, Up Rachel goes on t'other side.

Just half-way down the Justice hung; Just half-way up the woman swung.

"Good land o' Goshen!" shouted she; "Why, do you see it?" answered he.

The couple, dangling in the breeze, Like turkeys hung outside to freeze, At their rope's end and wits' end, too, Shout back and forth what best to do.

Cried Stephen, "Take it coolly, wife; All have their ups and downs in life."

Quoth Rachel, "What a pity 'tis To joke at such a thing as this!

A man whose wife is being hung Should know enough to hold his tongue."

"Now, Rachel, as I look below, I see a tempting heap of snow.

Suppose, my dear, I take my knife, And cut the rope to save my life?"

She shouted, "Don't! 'twould be my death-- I see some pointed stones beneath.

A better way would be to call, With all our might, for Phebe Hall."

"Agreed!" he roared. First he, then she Gave tongue; "O Phebe! Phebe! _Phe-e-be_ Hall!" in tones both fine and coa.r.s.e.

Enough to make a drover hoa.r.s.e.

Now Phebe, over at the farm, Was sitting, sewing, snug and warm; But hearing, as she thought, her name, Sprang up, and to the rescue came; Beheld the scene, and thus she thought: "If now a kitchen chair were brought, And I could reach the lady's foot, I'd draw her downward by the boot, Then cut the rope, and let him go; He cannot miss the pile of snow."

He sees her moving toward his wife.

Armed with a chair and carving-knife, And, ere he is aware, perceives His head ascending to the eaves; And, guessing what the two are at, Screams from beneath the roof, "Stop that!

You make me fall too far, by half!"

But Phebe answers, with a laugh, "Please tell a body by what right You've brought your wife to such a plight!"

And then, with well-directed blows, She cuts the rope and down he goes.

The wife untied, they walk around When lo! no Stephen can be found.

They call in vain, run to and fro; They look around, above, below; No trace or token can they see, And deeper grows the mystery.

Then Rachel's heart within her sank; But, glancing at the snowy bank, She caught a little gleam of hope,-- A gentle movement of the rope.

They sc.r.a.pe away a little snow; What's this? A hat! Ah! he's below; Then upward heaves the snowy pile, And forth he stalks in tragic style, Unhurt, and with a roguish smile; And Rachel sees, with glad surprise, The missing found, the fallen rise.

_Rev. Henry Reeves._

Jane Conquest

About the time of Christmas (Not many months ago), When the sky was black With wrath and rack, And the earth was white with snow, When loudly rang the tumult Of winds and waves of strife, In her home by the sea, With her babe on her knee, Sat Harry Conquest's wife.

And he was on the ocean, Although she knew not where, For never a lip Could tell of the s.h.i.+p, To lighten her heart's despair.

And her babe was fading and dying; The pulse in the tiny wrist Was all but still, And the brow was chill, And pale as the white sea mist.

Jane Conquest's heart was hopeless; She could only weep and pray That the Shepherd mild Would take her child Without a pain away.

The night was dark and darker, And the storm grew stronger still, And buried in deep And dreamless sleep Lay the hamlet under the hill.

The fire was dead on the hearthstone Within Jane Conquest's room, And still sat she, With her babe on her knee, At prayer amid the gloom.

When, borne above the tempest, A sound fell on her ear, Thrilling her through, For well she knew 'Twas the voice of mortal fear.

And a light leaped in at the lattice, Sudden and swift and red; Crimsoning all, The whited wall, And the floor, and the roof o'erhead.

For one brief moment, heedless Of the babe upon her knee, With the frenzied start Of a frightened heart, Upon her feet rose she.

And through the quaint old cas.e.m.e.nt She looks upon the sea; Thank G.o.d that the sight She saw that night So rare a sight should be!

Hemmed in by many a billow With mad and foaming lip, A mile from sh.o.r.e, Or hardly more, She saw a gallant s.h.i.+p.

And to her horror she beheld it Aflame from stem to stern; For there seemed no speck On all that wreck Where the fierce fire did not burn; Till the night was like a sunset, And the sea like a sea of blood, And the rocks and sh.o.r.e Were bathed all o'er And drenched with the gory flood.

She looked and looked, till the terror Went creeping through every limb; And her breath came quick, And her heart grew sick, And her sight grew dizzy and dim; And her lips had lost their utterance, For she tried but could not speak; And her feelings found No channel of sound In prayer, or sob, or shriek.

Once more that cry of anguish Thrilled through the tempest's strife, And it stirred again In heart and brain The active thinking life; And the light of an inspiration Leaped to her brightened eye, And on lip and brow Was written now A purpose pure and high.

Swiftly she turns, and softly She crosses the chamber floor, And faltering not, In his tiny cot She laid the babe she bore.

And then with a holy impulse, She sank to her knees, and made A lowly prayer, In the silence there, And this was the prayer she prayed:

"O Christ, who didst bear the scourging, And who now dost wear the crown, I at Thy feet, O True and Sweet, Would lay my burden down.

Thou bad'st me love and cherish The babe Thou gavest me, And I have kept Thy word, nor stept Aside from following Thee.

"And lo! my boy is dying!

And vain is all my care; And my burden's weight Is very great, Yea, greater than I can bear!

O Lord, Thou know'st what peril Doth threat these poor men's lives, And I, a woman, Most weak and human, Do plead for their waiting wives.

"Thou canst not let them perish; Up, Lord, in Thy strength, and save From the scorching breath Of this terrible death On this cruel winter wave.

Take Thou my babe and watch it, No care is like to Thine; And let Thy power In this perilous hour Supply what lack is mine."

And so her prayer she ended, And rising to her feet, Gave one long look At the cradle nook Where the child's faint pulses beat; And then with softest footsteps Retrod the chamber floor, And noiselessly groped For the latch, and oped, And crossed the cottage door.

And through the tempest bravely Jane Conquest fought her way, By snowy deep And slippery steep To where her duty lay.

And she journeyed onward, breathless, And weary and sore and faint, Yet forward pressed With the strength, and the zest, And the ardor of a saint.

Solemn, and weird, and lonely Amid its countless graves, Stood the old gray church On its tall rock perch, Secure from the sea and its waves; And beneath its sacred shadow Lay the hamlet safe and still; For however the sea And the wind might be, There was quiet under the hill.

Jane Conquest reached the churchyard, And stood by the old church door, But the oak was tough And had bolts enough, And her strength was frail and poor; So she crept through a narrow window, And climbed the belfry stair, And grasped the rope, Sole cord of hope, For the mariners in despair.

And the wild wind helped her bravely, And she wrought with an earnest will, And the clamorous bell Spoke out right well To the hamlet under the hill.

And it roused the slumbering fishers, Nor its warning task gave o'er Till a hundred fleet And eager feet Were hurrying to the sh.o.r.e.

And then it ceased its ringing, For the woman's work was done, And many a boat That was now afloat Showed man's work had begun.

But the ringer in the belfry Lay motionless and cold, With the cord of hope.

The church-bell rope, Still in her frozen hold.

How long she lay it boots not, But she woke from her swoon at last In her own bright room.

To find the gloom, And the grief, and the peril past, With the sense of joy within her, And the Christ's sweet presence near; And friends around, And the cooing sound Of her babe's voice in her ear.

And they told her all the story, How a brave and gallant few O'ercame each check, And reached the wreck, And saved the hopeless crew.

And how the curious s.e.xton Had climbed the belfry stair, And of his fright When, cold and white, He found her lying there;

And how, when they had borne her Back to her home again, The child she left With a heart bereft Of hope, and weary with pain, Was found within his cradle In a quiet slumber laid; With a peaceful smile On his lips the while, And the wasting sickness stayed.

And she said "Twas the Christ who watched it, And brought it safely through"; And she praised His truth And His tender ruth Who had saved her darling too.