THE IRRIGATION AGE. 207 



The table was equally reasonable, and with ample choice to order of 

 fish, joint and fowl, besides which there was a large drawing-room for 

 reading and writing, which for me "was especially convenient with the 

 plans and charts I was working upon. 



[The writer wishes at once to acknowledge his indebtedness for collaboration 

 in these and other notes to follow to C. Rinald, c. e., 'la Herre', Val-Roger, Villiers- 

 sur-Marne, France. L. L.] 



THE BURIED MOTHER. 

 Out by the walls of the Danish town, 

 The graves stood cold as the night came down. 



The Angelus prayer had long been said, 



And the bells tolled out the Psalm for the dead; 



It swung for awhile from the darkening steeple, 

 "Out of the depths," said priest and people. 



Through all the close set town and towers 

 The doors were shut for the silent hours. 

 But a mother, buried for half a year, 

 Woke with a crying in her ear. 



She woke with the vague sleep still in her head, 

 And clad in the shroud that wraps the dead, 



She left the cold graves under the walls 

 And took the streets to her husband's halls. 



She felt her long-dead bosom ache, 

 For her seven children were all awake: 



And none had broken them bread that night 

 Or poured them beer or trimmed a light. 



And none had laid them pillow or sheet; 

 The dust of the day was on their feet. 



Two strove for an empty cup, and one 

 Was crying that was her youngest son. 



She washed and kissed them, and hushed their cries; 

 While tears pressed out of her long-dead eyes. 



But their father, who lay on a lower floor, 

 Had heard her step on the corridor. 



And he arose and came, and saw her stand 

 With the childreu clinging to either hand. 



She said, "The crying smot? my heart, 

 It broke my dreams of death apart. 



"I was loath to leave these seven, I died, 



But when have I slept when the child has cried? 



"Take note, ere I pass to my many dead; 

 Your children woke and had no breml. 



"No fire, no lamp: two were at strife: 

 One cried uncomforted. Tell your wife." 



Magazine of Art. 



