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When thunder blots the sun,

And lays a hand of terror on the herds,
That stills the bleating on a hundred hills,
There is a silence over all the land
Waiting the fluttering fire. So did I wait,
And swift as lightning fell the blow on me.
Reason had left her throne, and busy dreams
Made a wild medley of the day,--as when
Some great event has happened in the tower,
After the lord and lady have retired
The rude domestics give it strangest shapes,
Talking around the fire-and suddenly,
With an affrighted heart I lay awake,
And listened eager as alarmed air
Which has been traversed by a sudden cry.
A moment told me all; I ran to her,

But she had sunk in swoon, and there I stood

Like one too late upon a brink, who sees

The water closing over all he loves.

I knelt down by the bed.

"Come, Margery!

The sea is glittering in the sunny bay,

The fisher's nets are drying on the shore,

And let us gather silver purple shells

For necklaces.

You have been in the woods ; Your lips are black with berries. O the boats, The bonny, bonny boats! List, the fishers sing!"

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Upon this dark and dreadful, dreadful road;

I cannot hear a voice or touch a hand;

O Father, take me home!" She sobbed and wept

As if she were a little wandered child.

Her Father took her home. I stooped to catch

Her feeble breath; a change came o'er her look,
A flutter in her throat, and all was peace.
Then slowly I grew conscious that the dawn
Filled the square window with his hateful face,
Staring into the chamber of the dead,—
And with affrighted eyes I gazed on him.


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