Verses and Rhymes by the way | Page 5

Through all these weary, waiting years,
How many hopes and fears have met' How many prayers, how many
tears! When the time came that he should come Back to his fair young
wife and home, Often and often would she say, "He'll surely come to us
to-day." Pet Marie's best robe was put on And the poor mother dressed

with care-- Glad that she was both young and fair-- "To meet thy father,
little one" Oft standing on the very spot Where she had parted from
Rajotte She stood a patient watcher long, And listened eagerly to hear
The voyageurs' returning song Come floating to her ear But still he
came not, years went by, Yet she must pray, and hope, and wait, His
form would some day meet her eye, His step sound at the river gate Oh!
it was hard to hear them say, "He comes not, and he must be dead
Cease pining all your life away, 'Twere better far that you should wed
And Antoine keeps his first love still, And Antoine is so well to do,
You may be happy if you will His pleading eyes ask leave to woo"
'Twas a relief to steal away, And tell her ebon rosary, And to the Virgin
Mother pray, Thinking that she in Heaven above, Remembered all of
earthly love, And human sympathy, And having suffered human pain--
Known what it was to grieve in vain-- Might bend to listen to her
prayer, And make the absent one her care In pleading with her Son
She waited while the years went on, And would not think that hope was
gone, Ever his steps seemed sounding near, His voice came floating to
her ear, And longing prayer, and yearning pain Reached out to draw
him back again; And love beyond all estimate Strengthened her heart to
hope and wait Pet Marie grew up tall and fair, Her girlish love, her
merry ways Kept the poor mother from despair Through many weary
nights and days.
Spring and high water both had met Once more at fair Plantagenet;
Once more the island trees were seen Adorned with leaves of tender
green, Aux Lievres's roar was heard afar, Where waters dashed on
rocks to spray, Roaring and tumbling in their play, Kept up a boisterous
holiday, With tumult loud of mimic war. The wild ducks of Lochaber's
Bay Were playing round on wanton wing, Rippling the current with
their breasts, Feeling the gladness of the spring, Pairing and building
happy nests All sounds of spring were in the air, All sights of spring
were fresh and fair Sad Marie of Plantagenet, With silver threads
among her hair, And by her side her blooming pet, As she had once
been, fresh and fair, Stood on the bank that glorious day Thinking of
him so long away Awhile they both in silence stood, Then Marie said,
"The Nor-west flood Again another year has come. You see those
water-fowl at play Come with the flood from far away. What flood will
bring your father home? 'Tis seventeen years ago to-day, Since, parting

here, he went away." Just then young Marie, glancing round "Mamma,
I hear a paddle's sound, Look there, those maple branches through,
Below us, there's a bark canoe, 'Tis stopping at our landing place
There's but one man with hair so grey, And a worn weather-beaten
face-- See, he is coming up this way Mamma, I wonder who is he, Stay
here and I will go and see."
Rajotte who thought he did not care-- That he had conquered even
despair, Could bear to see as well as know That Marie was the Dame
Vaiseau, Came to the parting spot, and there, In the bright sunlight's
happy beams, Stood the fair image of his dreams As young as on the
parting day, As bright as when he went away, As beautiful as when he
met Her first in fair Plantagenet, His Marie, living, breathing, warm,
Her glorious eyes, her midnight hair Shading the beauty of her face,
The same lithe, rounded, perfect form, The look of true and tender
grace
Rajotte stood spell-bound, and the past Seemed fading like a horrid
dream. "Marie," he said, "I'm home at last, Speak, Marie, are you what
you seem? After all these long years of pain, Art thou love given to me
again?" The maiden stood with wondering eyes, Silent, because of her
surprise, But the wife Marie gave a cry Of joy that rose to agony She
rushed the long lost one to meet, And falling, fainted at his feet He held
the true wife's pallid charms Slowly reviving in his arms, And then he
surely learned to know A little of the grand, true heart That through so
many years of woe Waited, and prayed,