Classic Poem

Before his father yet was dead,
Or blighting sorrows came to try
His soul, as he with houseless head
Went forth an outcast to the sky;
Young Erwin, at the wake, had seen
One maid more lovely than the rest,
And Linda felt that she had been
With him that she could like the best.
And when the Sunday throng outflow'd
Through church-yard from their worship done,
And stream'd, in knots, by ev'ry road,
In gay hues brighten'd by the sun,
The sight of lovely Linda drew
His feet the way that she had gone,
And she ne'er hasten'd when she knew
'Twas Erwin that was coming on.
But when a deadly blight was brought
Upon his early life, he tried
To wean his mind from ev'ry thought
Of making her his lowly bride;
And yet, when lucklessly they met,
Her lovely looks soon put to flight
The vain resolves his soul had set
So strong against her out of sight.
And there had happen'd, neighbours show,
Some tokens they could only take
To mean that, whether high or low,
They liv'd for one another's sake:
For once, when summer's shortest night
Came round, so slowly letting fall
Its sparkling dew below the light
The moon cast down upon the wall;
The while the slowly-clanging bell
Struck twelve o'clock, and giggling maids
Stole out to try the well-known spell
That brings their unknown husbands' shades;
Young Linda too was scatt'ring wide
Her hemp-seed, crying ‘This I sow
That he who takes me for his bride
Should now come after me and mow.’
And turning round her fair-neck'd head
With timid smile, and backward look,
She saw—and seeing—felt half dead—
A shape come slowly o'er the brook,
And when she saw his scythe-blade's bow
Behind him, gleaming by the moon,
She sank, with one convulsive throe,
Against an elm-tree in a swoon.
'Twas Erwin, who had been to mow
Some swaths on Mr. Wanhope's land
In mead, to help the mowers throw
A patch of grass they had in hand.
And other tokens seem'd to show
That she was born for Erwin's wife;
For I have heard, what you may know,
That he at one time sav'd her life.