Page:The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter.djvu/86

All woefully she wept, and stepping homeward,
Bemoaned aloud her dark and cruel fate;
“O, come,” she cried, “my little dog to meet me,
And you, my horse, be browsing at the gate.”

Right hastily she pushed by bush and bramble.
Chased by a fear that made her footsteps fleet,
And as she ran she met her little brother.
Then her old father coming her to meet.

“O brother, little brother,” cried she, weeping,
“Well you said of fairy-tree beware.
For precious things are bought and sold ere midnight,
On Hallow Eve, by those who barter there.”

She went alone into the little chapel.
And knelt before the holy Virgin's shrine,
She wept, “O Mother Mary, pray you for me.
To save those two most gentle souls of thine.”

And as she prayed, behold the holy statue
Spoke to her, saying, “Little can I aid,
God's ways are just, and you have dared to question
His judgment on this soul; you bought—and paid.

“For that one soul, your father and your brother.
Your own immortal life you bartered; then.
Yet one chance is allowed—your sure repentance.
Give back his heart you made to live again.”

“For these two souls—my father and my brother—
I give his heart back into death's cold land.
Never again to warm his dead, sweet body,
Or beat to madness underneath my hand.”

“And for your soul—to save it from its sorrow,
You must drive back his soul into the night,
Back into righteous punishment and justice.
Or lose your chance of everlasting light.”