Poems (Dorr)/Easter Morning

by Julia Caroline Dorr

For works with similar titles, see Easter Morning.

EASTER MORNING

Dame Margaret spake to Annie Blair,
 To Annie Blair spake she,
As from beneath her wrinkled hand
 She peered far out to sea.

"Look forth, look forth, O Annie Blair,
 For my old eyes are dim;
See you a single boat afloat
 Within the horizon's rim?"

Sweet Annie looked to east, to west,
 To north and south looked she:
There was no single boat afloat
 Upon the angry sea.

The sky was dark, the winds were high,
 The breakers lashed the shore,
And louder and still louder swelled
 The tempest's sullen roar.

"Look forth again," Dame Margaret cried;
 "Doth any boat come in?"
And scarce she heard the answering word
 Above the furious din.

"Pray God no boat may put to sea
 In such a gale!" she said;
"Pray God no soul may dare to-night
 The rocks of Danger Head!"

"This is Good Friday, Annie Blair,"
 Dame Margaret cried again,
"When Mary's Son, the Merciful,
 On Calvary was slain.

"The earth did quake, the rocks were rent,
 The graves were opened wide,
And darkness like to this fell down
 When He—the Holy—died.

"Give me your hand, O Annie Blair;
 Your two knees fall upon;
Christ send to you your lover back—
 To me, my only son!"

All night they watched, all night they prayed,
 All night they heard the roar
Of the fierce breakers dashing high
 Upon the lonely shore.

Oh, hark! strange footsteps on the sand,
 A voice above the din:
"Dame Margaret! Dame Margaret!
 Is Annie Blair within?

"High on the rocks of Danger Head.
 Her lover's boat is cast,
All rudderless, all anchorless—
 Mere hull and splintered mast."

Oh, hark! slow footsteps on the sand,
 And women wailing sore:
"Dame Margaret! Dame Margaret!
 Your son you'll see no more!

"God pity you! Christ comfort you!"
 The weeping women cried;
But "May God pity Annie Blair!"
 Dame Margaret replied.

"For life is long and youth is strong,
 And it must still bear on.
Leave us alone to make our moan—
 My son alas, my son!"

———

The Easter, morning, flushed with joy,
 Saw all the winds at rest,
And far and near the blue sea smiled
 With sunshine on its breast.

The neighbors came, the neighbors went;
 They sought the house of prayer;
But on the rocks of Danger Head
 The dame and Annie Blair,

With still, white faces, watched the deep
 Without a tear or moan.
"I cannot weep," said Annie Blair—
 "My heart is turned to stone."

Forth from the church the pastor came,
 And up the rocks strode he,
Baring his thin white locks to meet
 The salt breath of the sea.

"The rocks shall rend, the earth shall quake,
 The sea give up its dead,
For Christ our Lord is risen indeed—
 'Tis Easter morn," he said.

Oh, hark! oh, hark! A startled cry,
 A rush of hurrying feet,
The swarming of a hundred men
 Adown the village street.

"Now unto God and Christ the Lord
 Be praise and thanks alway!
The sea hath given up its dead
 This blessed Easter-day."