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Fourth Reader
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Count that day lost whose low descending sun
Views from thy hand no worthy action done.
THE FACE AGAINST THE PANE
Mabel, little Mabel,
With face against the pane,
Looks out across the night,
And sees the Beacon Light
A-trembling in the rain.
She hears the sea-bird screech,
And the breakers on the beach
Making moan, making moan.
And the wind about the eaves
Of the cottage sobs and grieves;
And the willow tree is blown
To and fro, to and fro,
Till it seems like some old crone
Standing out there all alone,
With her woe!
Wringing, as she stands,
Her gaunt and palsied hands;
While Mabel, timid Mabel,
With face against the pane,
Looks out across the night,
And sees the Beacon Light
A-trembling in the rain.
Set the table, maiden Mabel,
And make the cabin warm;
Your little fisher lover
Is out there in the storm;
And your father, – you are weeping!
O Mabel, timid Mabel,
Go spread the supper table,
And set the tea a-steeping.
Your lover’s heart is brave,
His boat is staunch and tight;
And your father knows the perilous reef
That makes the water white.
But Mabel, Mabel darling,
With her face against the pane,
Looks out across the night
At the Beacon in the rain.
The heavens are veined with fire
And the thunder, how it rolls!
In the lullings of the storm
The solemn church bell tolls
For lost souls!
But no sexton sounds the knell;
In that belfry, old and high,
Unseen fingers sway the bell,
As the wind goes tearing by!
How it tolls, for the souls
Of the sailors on the sea!
God pity them, God pity them,
Wherever they may be!
God pity wives and sweethearts
Who wait and wait, in vain!
And pity little Mabel,
With her face against the pane.
A boom! the lighthouse gun!
How its echo rolls and rolls!
’Tis to warn home-bound ships
Off the shoals.
See, a rocket cleaves the sky —
From the fort, a shaft of light!
See, it fades, and, fading, leaves
Golden furrows on the night!
What makes Mabel’s cheek so pale?
What makes Mabel’s lips so white?
Did she see the helpless sail
That, tossing here and there
Like a feather in the air,
Went down and out of sight —
Down, down, and out of sight?
Oh, watch no more, no more,
With face against the pane;
You cannot see the men that drown
By the Beacon in the rain!
From a shoal of richest rubies
Breaks the morning clear and cold;
And the angel of the village spire,
Frost-touched, is bright as gold.
Four ancient fishermen
In the pleasant autumn air,
Come toiling up the sands
With something in their hands, —
Two bodies stark and white,
Ah! so ghastly in the light,
With sea-weed in their hair.
Oh, ancient fishermen,
Go up to yonder cot!
You’ll find a little child
With face against the pane,
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Так получилось, что книга ко мне попала в тяжелый эмоциональный кризис и многое мне дала. Написано актуально, тут многих полезных вещей, никакого злоу...
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