BY LUCY LARCOM.

POOR, lone Hannah,

Sitting at the window, binding shoes!

Faded, wrinkled, Sitting, stitching, in a mournful muse! Bright-eyed beauty once was she, When the bloom was on the tree. Spring and winter Hannah's at the window, binding shoes.

Not a neighbor Passing nod or answer will refuse

To her whisper: " Is there from the fishers any news?" O, her heart's adrift with one On an endless voyage gone! Night and morning Hannah's at the window, binding shoes.

Fair young Hannah, Ben, the sun-burnt fisher, gayly woos;

Hale and clever,

For a willing heart and hand he sues.

May-day skies are all a-glow.

And the waves are laughing so!

For her wedding

Hannah leaves her window and her shoes.

May is passing; 'Mid the apple-boughs a pigeon coos.

Hannah shudders; For the mild southwester mischief brews. Round the rocks of Marblehead, Outward bound, a schooner sped. Silent, lonesome, Hannah's at the window, binding shoes.

'Tis November; Now no tear her wasted cheek bedews.

From Newfoundland Not a sail returning will she lose.

Whispering, hoarsely, " Fishermen, Have you, have you heard of Ben?" Old with watching, Hannah's at the window, binding shoes.

Twenty winters Bleach and tear the ragged shore she views:

Twenty seasons; Never one has brought her any news. Still her dim eyes silently Chase the white sails o'er the sea. Hopeless, faithful, Hannah's at the window, binding shoes.

"make me a child again, just for to-night." 553