The Superior Times

Scene:
Newport, 1792. A chamber overlooking
the harbor. An aged man dozing in his chair. A
young girl watching by his side.
Eheu! Eheu! Posthume! Posthume!
GRANDFATHER.
Polly-Pauline! What is the hour, child?
PAULINE.
Nine,-
Tis on the stroke!
GRANDFATHER.
And is the weather fine?
How falls the glass? How looks the bay?
The fleet
Went out at dawn.
Through such wet wind and
sleet
She left her home that night-But I forget—
Forget-forget-Ah me!
PAULINE.
Hush, grand sir; let
Me bring my little violin and play
The airs you love.
GRANDFATHER.
Ah, child!-you have her way,-
-So fine! The fleet went down the bay at dawn,
And then they turned and whispered, she was gone!
My little Polly! -She had left a line,
'Tis in the desk there. -All the past was mine,
The future his, she wrote! 'Twas wet with tears.
Tears-tears. What have I done through all the
years
But weep! Accursed-
PAULINE.
Oh, grandfather, forgive-
You promised
GRANDFATHER.
Ay! We bear such griefs and live-
Live on. Sweet Polly! With her modest way.
They call her that -the flower of Newport bay.
My little Polly, with her winsome air
And soft, still speech-her golden braided hair.
(He goes on in a low voice to himself, his words
mingling with the soft, faint notes of the violin.)
They sang her praise-those godless men of France.
Her eyes brought their blue skies back. In her
glance
They found the beauty of the stars that burn
By the blue lilies—over sweet Auvergne.
Such silver speech to tempt Love-
PAULINE.
Shall I sing,
"Oh, flower, white flower?"
GRANDFATHER.
Ay-sing it-anything!
It is her voice! I used to think the birds
Crept in her throat and sang their joyous words
In human speech,
(Pauline sings softly words from a vesper song.)
Then they sent
You back to me. The barren path she went.
Made bleak by woe, with sudden blooms grew
sweet
And made a pathway for your baby feet
All flowers, flowers—
Little Polly-see-
There is a light! Come closer-take the key.
And from the desk there bring-'tis old and torn-
A folded paper.
PAULINE (bringing it).
Why-how thin and worn.
How dim the lines look. See, it falls apart.
GRANDFATHER.
Weighed with her tears
Now place it on my heart,
And sing-sing closer-for the light is gone;
And yet you said an hour ago, 'twas dawn.
I'll sleep-
PAULINE (singing again).
Sweet spirit, gently guide me through
The woes that gather fast.
GRANDFATHER (starting up and stretching his arms
upward).
What-Polly! You!
(He falls back dead).
-Springfield Republican.