Some family-feud, in days long passed away
Between the Graems and the MacDonnell's rose.
And still its memory in his bosom lay
Though seeming peace was made between the foes
But ah! my child, how can I tell the rest?
I lived; but Heaven in mercy spared the blow
Of thought and memory then, and weeks that pass'd
Were one drear blank—I felt not then my woe.
Child, you have never loved, and cannot know
How drear and hopeless youth itself may seem;
The long, blank loveless years to wonder through,
With nought, save memory of a bygone dream.
But sorrow kills not, we may laugh or weep,
Still Time by stealthy gliding steals away;
And Winter snows again lay white and deep,
And once again they welcomed Christmas day.
I watched them with sad eyes that knew no smile,
And a dull mind from which all hope had flown,
A listless heart that nothing could beguile
Back to the gladness that it once had known.
The dull December twilight grey and cold,
Fell weird and grim upon the lonely moor;
The wild wind raged o'er wintry waste and old,
And in the storm a stranger sought our door.
He asked a shelter from the bitter night
My father's brown cheek blanched to hear that tone,
He led him forward to the yule-log's light,
A lost—a mourned, but now a new-found son!
Oh! sweetest welcomes on the wanderer fell!
The last of our long race—returning home;
Home to the long-tired hearts that loved him well
No more an exile, by strange shores to roam.
"Bid me not rest" he said, "until you know,
I have a friend who claims his welcome now,
For, but for him, the depth of Alpines snow
Had been my grave, and you had lost your son."
"Then wherefore wait?" my mother gently said,
"Let him come hither till I bless his name!"
And Roderick turned, and forth the stranger led
And once again, I looked on Hector Graem.