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He was young, the Organ-Builder, and o'er all the land his fame

Ran with fleet and eager footsteps, like a swiftly rushing flame.

All the maidens heard the story; all the maidens blushed and smiled,

By his youth and wondrous beauty and his great renown beguiled.

So he sought and won the fairest, and the wedding day was set:

Happy day—the brightest jewel in the glad year's

coronet!

But when they the portal entered, he forgot his lovely

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Forgot his love, forgot his God, and his heart swelled high with pride.

"Ah!" thought he, "how great a master am I! When the organ plays,

How the vast cathedral arches will re-echo with my

praise!

Up the aisle the gay procession moved. The altar shone afar,

With its every candle gleaming through soft shadows like a star.

But he listened, listened, listened, with no thought

of love or prayer,

For the swelling notes of triumph from the organ standing there.

All was silent. Nothing heard he save the priest's low monotone,

And the bride's robe trailing softly o'er the floor of fretted stone.

Then his lips grew white with anger. Surely God was pleased with him

Who had built the wondrous organ for His temple vast and dim?

Whose the fault, then? Hers - - the maiden standing meekly at his side!

Flamed his jealous rage, maintaining she was false to him his bride.

Vain were all her protestations, vain her innocence and truth;

On that very night he left her to her anguish and her ruth.

Far he wandered to a country wherein no man knew his name.

For ten weary years he dwelt there, nursing still his wrath and shame.

Then his haughty heart grew softer, and he thought by night and day

Of the bride he had deserted till he hardly dared to pray

Thought of her, a spotless maiden, fair and beautiful

and good;

Thought of his relentless anger that had cursed her womanhood;

Till his yearning grief and penitence at last were all complete,

And he longed, with bitter longing, just to fall down at her feet.

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Ah! how throbbed his heart when, after many a weary day and night,

Rose his native towers before him, with the sunset glow alight!

Through the gates into the city on he pressed with

eager tread;

There he met a long procession

the dead.

mourners following

"Now why weep ye so, good people? and whom bury ye to-day?

Why do yonder sorrowing maidens scatter flowers along the way?

"Has some saint gone up to Heaven?'

they answered, weeping sore:

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"Yes,"

"For the Organ-Builder's saintly wife our eyes shall

see no more;

"And because her days were given to the service of

God's poor,

From His church we mean to bury her. See! yonder is the door."

No one knew him; no one wondered when he cried out, white with pain;

No one questioned when, with pallid lips, he poured his tears like rain.

""Tis some one whom she has comforted who mourns with us," they said,

As he made his way unchallenged, and bore the coffin's head.

Bore it through the open portal, bore it up the echoing

aisle,

Set it down before the altar, where the lights burned clear the while:

When, oh, hark! the wondrous organ of itself began to play,

Strains of rare, unearthly sweetness never heard until that day!

All the vaulted arches rang with the music sweet and

clear;

All the air was filled with glory, as of angels hovering

near;

And ere yet the strain was ended, he who bore the

coffin's head,

With the smile of one forgiven, gently sank beside - dead.

it

--

They who raised the body knew him, and they laid him by his bride;

Down the aisle and o'er the threshold they were carried side by side;

While the organ played a dirge that no man ever heard before,

And then softly sank to silence- silence kept for

evermore.

ANNIE LAURIE

BY WILLIAM DOUGLAS

Maxwelton banks are bonnie,
Where early fa's the dew;
Where me and Annie Laurie
Made up the promise true;
Made up the promise true,
And never forget will I;
And for bonnie Annie Laurie
I'll lay me down and die.

She's backit like the peacock,
She's breistit like the swan,
She's jimp about the middle,

Her waist ye weel micht span;
Her waist ye weel micht span,
And she has a rolling eye;
And for bonnie Annie Laurie
I'll lay me down and die.

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