ENOCH ARDEN. LONG lines of cliff breaking have left a chasm ; And in the chasm are foam and yellow sands; In cluster; then a moulder'd church; and higher Here on this beach a hundred years ago, Three children of three houses, Annie Lee, B The prettiest little damsel in the port, And Philip Ray the miller's only son, A narrow cave ran in beneath the cliff: In this the children play'd at keeping house. Enoch was host one day, Philip the next, While Annie still was mistress; but at times Enoch would hold possession for a week: This is my house and this my little wife.' 'Mine too' said Philip 'turn and turn about :' When, if they quarrell'd, Enoch stronger-made Was master then would Philip, his blue eyes All flooded with the helpless wrath of tears, Shriek out 'I hate you, Enoch,' and at this The little wife would weep for company, And pray them not to quarrel for her sake, And say she would be little wife to both. But when the dawn of rosy childhood past, And the new warmth of life's ascending sun Was felt by either, either fixt his heart On that one girl; and Enoch spoke his love, And would if ask'd deny it. Enoch set To hoard all savings to the uttermost, To purchase his own boat, and make a home For Annie and so prosper'd that at last : A luckier or a bolder fisherman, |