IN the dead of the night the children were weeping. The mother heard that where she lay sleeping, And scratched at the coffin lid. The shrill of the lark, the scream of the owl, The dogs that bark and the storms that howl— She never had heard them where she lay hid, But she heard her poor little children weeping. In the lone of the night the sexton lay dreaming. He turned him about: "Who is sighing and screaming?" "O help me out, sexton, for pity, pity's sake!" "Hush! hush! hush! The dead must sleep sound and never wake." A shimmer of wings went over the sky, A murmur of strings: "O pass me not by!" —The poor mother wants to get out— "O come, help me soon!" But the angels harp on 'twixt the earth and the moon. In the dark underground the mother lay weeping; Through the deep underground a devil was creeping. "Hush! hush! hush! What are you crying about? Your gravestone is carven with cherubim faces, Your pall is enwoven with silver laces." "O help me, dear angel, for pity, pity's sake, My children have wept till their hearts are like to break." "The angels are fled, and the sexton is sleeping, And I am a devil, a devil from Hell." "Then help me out, devil—O help me, good devil!" "A price must be paid to a spirit of evil. Will you pay me the price?" said the spirit from Hell. "The price shall be paid, the bargain is made." She has sworn him an oath, the coffin is broken, The poor mother runs up the stair. "You have sworn me an oath, but where are the pledges?" "My hood of white satin with Valenciennes edges, The ring from my finger, the rose from my hair." "No, no, no, But a tress of your beautiful hair." "My penknife of pearl for a last love-token I gave my sweet William; then how can I shear it?" "No need," said the devil; "no need. I can tear it." In the dead of the night, the moon shining brightly, From her tomb by the church the mother rose whitely. By the bridge o'er the stream, up the path through the meadow, Like a bird, like a gleam, through the wind, through the shadow She ran, while the devil looked out from her tomb. He smiles 'twixt the cherubim faces and wings, And winds her long hair round his finger for rings. Boom! boom! boom! From the tower in the silence there sounds the great-bell. "I am fixing the price," said the devil from Hell. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DREAM by GEORGE GORDON BYRON APRIL'S LAMBS by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES THE WHITE CASCADE by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW GOOD NIGHT AND GOOD MORNING by RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES |