MADGE'S DOVE
Reading edition
ow, Madge," cried Hal, and bent his bow, "Just watch this famous shot; See that old willow by the brook— I'll hit the middle knot." Swift flew the arrow through the air, Madge watched it eager-eyed; But, oh! for Harry's gallant vaunt, The wayward dart flew wide. Flew wide, and struck his cousin's dove As, wheeling round and round, It hovered near—the wounded bird Fell fluttering to the ground. And in a moment o'er her pet Dear Madge is bending low. Oh, how she blames the faithless dart, The cruel, cruel bow! The dove, soft folded in her hands, She presses to her breast; The bird that brought the olive spray Was never more caressed. Her tears upon its plumage fall, They fall like soft warm rain— Sure if the bird were dead such love Would give it life again. Poor Hal stands by, and tries to speak His sorrow and regret; Madge scarcely hears a word he says For pity of her pet. But time, the gentle healer, cures The wounds of doves and men— The days restore to faithful Madge Her bonnie bird again.
Robert Richardson.
the wounded dove (See p. 16.)