“He does not know,” she whispered low,
“A little witch am I.”
All day he urged his weary horse,
And, in the red sundown,
Drew rein before a friendly door
In distant Berwick town.
A fellow-feeling for the wronged
The Quaker people felt;
And safe beside their kindly hearths
The hunted maiden dwelt,
Until from off its breast the land
The haunting horror threw,
And hatred, born of ghastly dreams,
To shame and pity grew.
Sad were the year’s spring morns, and sad
Its golden summer day,
But blithe and glad its withered fields,
And skies of ashen gray;
For spell and charm had power no more,
The spectres ceased to roam,
And scattered households knelt again
Around the hearths of home.
And when once more by Beaver Dam
The meadow-lark outsang,
And once again on all the hills
The early violets sprang,
And all the windy pasture slopes
Lay green within the arms
Of creeks that bore the salted sea
To pleasant inland farms,
The smith filed off the chains he forged,
The jail-bolts backward fell;
And youth and hoary age came forth
Like souls escaped from hell.
KING SOLOMON AND THE ANTS
Out from Jerusalem
The king rode with his great
War chiefs and lords of state,
And Sheba’s queen with them;
Comely, but black withal,
To whom, perchance, belongs
That wondrous Song of songs,
Sensuous and mystical,
Whereto devout souls turn
In fond, ecstatic dream,
And through its earth-born theme
The Love of loves discern.
Proud in the Syrian sun,
In gold and purple sheen,
The dusky Ethiop queen
Smiled on King Solomon.
Wisest of men, he knew
The languages of all
The creatures great or small
That trod the earth or flew.
Across an ant-hill led
The king’s path, and he heard
Its small folk, and their word
He thus interpreted:
“Here comes the king men greet
As wise and good and just,
To crush us in the dust
Under his heedless feet.”
The great king bowed his head,
And saw the wide surprise
Of the Queen of Sheba’s eyes
As he told her what they said.
“O king!” she whispered sweet,
“Too happy fate have they
Who perish in thy way
Beneath thy gracious feet!
“Thou of the God-lent crown,
Shall these vile creatures dare
Murmur against thee where
The knees of kings kneel down?”
“Nay,” Solomon replied,
“The wise and strong should seek
The welfare of the weak,”
And turned his horse aside.
His train, with quick alarm,
Curved with their leader round
The ant-hill’s peopled mound,
And left it free from harm.
The jewelled head bent low;
“O king!” she said, “henceforth
