| |
| WIDE as the sky Time spreads his hand, | |
| And blindly over us there blows | |
| A swarm of years that fill the land, | |
| Then fade, and are as fallen snows. | |
| |
| Behold, the flakes rush thick and fast; | 5 |
| Or are they years that come between, | |
| When, peering back into the past, | |
| I search the legendary scene? | |
| |
| Nay; marshalled down the open coast, | |
| Fearless of that low rampart’s frown, | 10 |
| The winter’s white-winged, footless host | |
| Beleaguers ancient Saybrook town. | |
| |
| And when the settlers wake, they stare | |
| On woods half-buried, white and green, | |
| A smothered world, an empty air: | 15 |
| Never had such deep drifts been seen! | |
| |
| But “Snow lies light upon my heart! | |
| An thou,” said merry Jonathan Rudd, | |
| “Wilt wed me, winter shall depart, | |
| And love like spring for us shall bud.” | 20 |
| |
| “Nay, how,” said Mary, “may that be? | |
| Nor minister nor magistrate | |
| Is here, to join us solemnly; | |
| And snow-banks bar us, every gate.” | |
| |
| “Winthrop at Pequot Harbor lies,” | 25 |
| He laughed. And with the morrow’s sun | |
| He faced the deputy’s dark eyes: | |
| “How soon, sir, may the rite be done?” | |
| |
| “At Saybrook? There the power’s not mine,” | |
| Said he. “But at the brook we ’ll meet, | 30 |
| That ripples down the boundary line; | |
| There you may wed, and Heaven shall see ’t.” | |
| |
| Forth went, next day, the bridal train | |
| Through vistas dreamy with gray light. | |
| The waiting woods, the open plain, | 35 |
| Arrayed in consecrated white, | |
| |
| Received and ushered them along; | |
| The very beasts before them fled, | |
| Charmed by the spell of inward song | |
| These lovers’ hearts around them spread. | 40 |
| |
| Four men with netted foot-gear shod | |
| Bore the maid’s carrying-chair aloft; | |
| She swayed above, as roses nod | |
| On the lithe stem their bloom-weight soft. | |
| |
| At last beside the brook they stood, | 45 |
| With Winthrop and his followers; | |
| The maid in flake-embroidered hood, | |
| The magistrate well cloaked in furs, | |
| |
| That, parting, showed a glimpse beneath | |
| Of ample, throat-encircling ruff | 50 |
| As white as some wind-gathered wreath | |
| Of snow quilled into plait and puff. | |
| |
| A few grave words, a question asked, | |
| Eyelids that with the answer fell | |
| Like falling petals,—form that tasked | 55 |
| Brief time;—yet all was wrought, and well! | |
| |
| Then “Brooklet,” Winthrop smiled and said, | |
| “Frost’s finger on thy lip makes dumb | |
| The voice wherewith thou shouldst have sped | |
| These lovers on their way; but, come, | 60 |
| |
| “Henceforth forever be thou known | |
| By name of her here made a bride; | |
| So shall thy slender music’s moan | |
| Sweeter into the ocean glide!” | |
| |
| Then laughed they all, and sudden beams | 65 |
| Of sunshine quivered through the sky. | |
| Below the ice the unheard stream’s | |
| Clear heart thrilled on in ecstasy; | |
| |
| And lo, a visionary blush | |
| Stole warmly o’er the voiceless wild, | 70 |
| And in her rapt and wintry hush | |
| The lonely face of Nature smiled. | |
| |
| Ah, Time, what wilt thou? Vanished quite | |
| Is all that tender vision now; | |
| And like lost snow-flakes in the night, | 75 |
| Mute lie the lovers as their vow. | |
| |
| And O them little, careless brook, | |
| Hast thou thy tender trust forgot? | |
| Her modest memory forsook, | |
| Whose name, known once, thou utterest not? | 80 |
| |
| Spring wakes the rill’s blithe minstrelsy; | |
| In willow bough or alder bush | |
| Birds sing, with golden filigree | |
| Of pebbles ’neath the flood’s clear gush; | |
| |
| But none can tell us of that name | 85 |
| More than the “Mary.” Men still say | |
| “Bride Brook” in honor of her fame; | |
| But all the rest has passed away. | |
| |
