Iv

After the flood on Tantramar The fisher-folk flocked in from far. They stopped the breach; they healed the scar. Once more the marsh grew green.

But at the marsh’s inmost edge, Where a tall fringe of flag and sedge Catches a climbing hawthorn hedge, A lonely hulk is seen.

It lies forgotten of all tides, The grass grows round its bleaching sides, An endless inland peace abides About its mouldering age.

But in the cot-door on the height An old man sits with fading sight, And memories of one cruel night Are all his heritage.

And at her spinning-wheel within The mother’s hands forget to spin,-- So weary all her days have been Since Margery went away.

---- Tantramar! Tantramar! Until that sorrow fades afar, Thy plains where birds and blossoms are Laugh not their ancient way!