A Ballad

Horowhenua Chronicle, 23 July 1915, Page 2

A Ballad

• < THE RED WTALV j (Written for The Chronicle.) j A garden old on one stormy night, ( The storm clouds liew o'er head, j Like startled flocks when they flee in fright, ( From the foe they sorely dread. 1 Beyond the sea the rain clouds arose :J The fcoa made sullen roar. [ It felt the sting of the western blows, Of a wind from Winter's door. \ Athwart the sky to the eastern hills, They spread in dense black pall; A darkened stage for the Storm King's thrills. And a time when foul blows fall. I'Yoin out the dark came the lightning's flash, And then the thunder's boom; The rain came down, the showers' tierce dash Thick'ning e'en that murky gloom. 1 did not bow to the blust'ring storm, To move 1 did not try— There mid the flow'rs lay a stifFiung form, Witli its face against the.sky. My mind was held in a nocent fear, it long had thought the deed: .My hands were, red with a. grumouct smear.. They had struck in Passion's gleed. The wild storm (strove with its driving rain. Tu clear that youthful face. Of welling stream with the starlet stain, By which Life to Death gave place, The storm went by, in its arms a life; That stream the earth drank 'well, Ais Greeks of old in their peace and strife, lluddy draughts of enoinel. Thou moonbeams came in fcuch Jonu bright shafts. Ashtntiug through the trees, As though to seek where the day wind wafts. Scent of bloom to honey bees. I feared tho light; il crept slew along, Koinorselcssly ats Fate, That goel grim: and 1 felt a thong, -Binding me on gallows gate. In fearful dread It was borne away— Out whore the sand-drifus creep, Whore sea birds shriek and tho salt gales play, '.Neath those sands I hid It deep. Gone years of nights since tlmb awful LlllKi, Each night is still the (same; i start from (sleep with the brand of crime, - Scaring me with Mem'ry's flame. With staring eyes 1 await the dawn, The dark is tinged with red, But through it all iu the grave's wido yawn, Shows the face of one long dead. Ol'ttiiiies 1 think in a hopeful way, When grey clouds loose their store Of water pure, that it« kindly spray From my soul will wash the score. I bare m,y head when the wild btorms rage, When rain falls all around, A\n\ wander forth, that my life's dark page From the rest might be unbound. The infant child at the water font, From Man's first sin is freed; A like release is my haunting want, And my guilty soul's great need. But not for me will the Sands return, The Door that's shut fcwing back, Rain falls Tn vain on a dead rsoul's urn, And the keys of Faith 1 lack. As time goes by and my hair grows white, The bleach of rain a»tl sun, I feel by fate in the coming Night, • When my life's round course is run, Across the Styx where the wage fa paid. According to the blame, My red fitain'd .soul will at last bo laid. And its colour lost in flame. Tho 0. E.