And the birchen boat's of the Norridgewock,
Tethered to tree and stump and rock,
Rotting along the river bank !

Blessed Mary ! who is she

Leaning against that maple-tree ?

The sun upon her face burns hot,

But the fixed eyelid moveth not ;

The squirrel's chirp is shrill and clear

From the dry bough above her ear ;

Dashing from rock and root its spray,
Close at her feet the river rushes ;
The blackbird's wing against her brushes,
And sweetly through the hazel-bushes
The robin's mellow music gushes ; —

God save her ! will she sleep alway ?

Castine hath bent him over the sleeper :
" Wake, daughter, — wake ! " — but she stirs

no limb :
The eye that looks on him is fixed and
dim ; [deeper,

And the sleep she is sleeping shall be no

Until the angel's oath is said.
And the final blast of the trump gone forth
To the graves of the sea and the graves of
earth.
Ruth Bonython is dead !



THE VAUDOIS TEACHER.
