Heir of all the faith sublime On whose wings they soared to heaven; Heir of every hope that Time To Earth’s fainting sons hath given! Aspirations pure and high— Strength to dare and to endure— Heir of all the Ages, I— Lo! I am no longer poor!
HILDA, SPINNING
Spinning, spinning, by the sea, All the night! On a stormy, rock-ribbed shore, Where the north winds downward pour, And the tempests fiercely sweep From the mountains to the deep, Hilda spins beside the sea, All the night!
Spinning, at her lonely window, By the sea! With her candle burning clear, Every night of all the year, And her sweet voice crooning low, Quaint old songs of love and woe, Spins she at her lonely window, By the sea.
On a bitter night in March, Long ago, Hilda, very young and fair, With a crown of golden hair, Watched the tempest raging wild, Watched the roaring sea—and smiled Through that woeful night in March, Long ago!
What though all the winds were out In their might? Richard’s boat was tried and true; Stanch and brave his hardy crew; Strongest he to do or dare. Said she, breathing forth a prayer, “He is safe, though winds are out In their might!”
But at length the morning dawned, Still and clear! Calm, in azure splendor, lay All the waters of the bay; And the ocean’s angry moans Sank to solemn undertones, As at last the morning dawned, Still and clear!
With her waves of golden hair Floating free, Hilda ran along the shore, Gazing off the waters o’er; And the fishermen replied, “He will come in with the tide,” As they saw her golden hair Floating free!
Ah! he came in with the tide— Came alone! Tossed upon the shining sands— Ghastly face and clutching hands— Seaweed tangled in his hair— Bruised and torn his forehead fair— Thus he came in with the tide, All alone!
Hilda watched beside her dead, Day and night. Of those hours of mortal woe Human ken may never know; She was silent, and his ear Kept the secret, close and dear, Of her watch beside her dead, Day and night!