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THE LEGEND OF THE ORGAN BUILDER
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.
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—
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 woman- hood;
Thought of his relentless anger that had cursed her woman- hood;
Till his yearning grief and penitence at last were all complete,
And he longed, with bitter longing, just to fall down at her feet.
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!
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—mourners following the dead.
There he met a long procession—mourners following the dead.
"Now, why weep ye so, good people? and whom bury ye to-day?
Why do yonder sorrowing maidens scatter flowers along the way?
Why do yonder sorrowing maidens scatter flowers along the way?
"Has some saint gone up to Heaven?" "Yes," they answered, weeping sore:
"For the Organ-Builder's saintly wife our eyes shall see no more;
"For the Organ-Builder's saintly wife our eyes shall see no more;
