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Updated: May 6, 2025
Her hands are in their place on the keys, her lips parted, and trilling forth, in a tender diminuendo, the closing words of the sad apostrophe: 'O Love, who bewailest The frailty of all things here, Why choose you the frailest For your cradle, your home, and your bier! Her head is forward a little, and her eyes directed keenly upward to the top of the page of music confronting her.
O Love! who bewailest The frailty of all things here, Why choose you the frailest For your cradle, your home, and your bier? Allan made the fire yet brighter, listened a moment to the hooting of the owl, then read on: Its passions will rock thee As the storms rock the ravens on high; Bright reason will mock thee
There are duties, courtesies, nay, kindnesses which both will perform, but the ghost of love and sympathy will only rise in their hearts to jibber in mockery words and phrases that have lost their meaning, that have lost their enchantment. "O love! who bewailest The frailty of all things here, Why choose you the frailest For your cradle, your home, and your bier?
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