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Canadian Wild Flowers by Helen M. (Helen Mar) Johnson
page 116 of 235 (49%)
Upon the threshold gazing down the road
With chattering teeth, and limbs that quaked with cold,
Imagining she heard in every gust
The voice and footfall of the man she loved.

The hearth was piled with blazing logs that shed
A cheerful glow upon the cottage walls;
The table spread for three before it stood,
And yet the bread was all unbroken there,--
And from the cottage to the garden gate
A shivering form went flitting to and fro.
Despair was on her cheek--and in her eye
A mother's anguish: "But they might have seen
How fierce a storm was gathering--might have stayed."
And while the hope was fresh within her heart
She hurried in, but only to return
And take her station at the door again.

* * * * *

The moments slowly lengthened into hours,
The air grew chilly--for upon the hearth
A few decaying embers smoked alone;
And pale with midnight vigils and with grief
The watcher knelt to find relief in prayer.
Then hark! a sound--a footstep--and she starts!
Her heart leaps to her throat, and with a bound
She gains the cottage door--it opens wide.

A cry of joy is trembling on her lips,
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