Page 251 - The model orator, or, Young folks' speaker : containing the choicest recitations and readings from the best authors for schools, public entertainments, social gatherings, Sunday schools, etc. : including recitals in prose and verse ...
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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,
                                                    L on g  ago,
                                           Hilda,  very  young and  fair,
                                           With  a  crown  of golden  hair,
                                           Watched  the  tempest  raging  wild,
                                           Watched  the  roaring  sealT— and smiled—
                                           Through  that  woeful  night  in  March,
                                                    Long  ago  !

                                           What,  though  all  the  winds  were  out
                                                    Tn  their might?
                                           Richard's  boat  was  tried  and true ;2
                                           Staunch  and  brave  his  hardy  crew ;
                                           Strongest he  to  do  or  dare.
                                           Said she.  breathing  forth  a prayer :
                                         “ He is  safe, 6 though  winds  are  out
                                                    In  their m ight! ”


                                           But,  at  length,  the  morning  dawned
                                                    Still  and  clear;
                                           Calm,  in  azure  splendor,  lay23
                                           A ll  the  waters  of the  bay ;
                                           And  the  ocean’s  angry  moans
                                           Sank  to  solemn  undertones,
                                           As,  at  last,  the  morning  dawned
                                                    Stiil  and  clear J

                                           With  her waves  of  golden  hair,
                                                    Floating  free,
                                           Hilda  ran  along the  shore,'1
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