Classic Poem

The Street was a Ruin, and Night's horrid glare
Illumined with terror the face of Despair;
While houseless, bewailing,
Mute Pity assailing,
A Mother's wild shrieks pierced the merciless air,
Beside her stood Edward, imploring each wind,
To wake his loved sister, who lingered behind;
Awake, my poor Mary,
Oh! fly to me, Mary;
In the arms of your Edward, a pillow you'll find.

In vain he called, for now the volum'd smoke,
Crackling, between the parting rafters broke;
Through the rent seams the forked flames aspire,
All, all, is lost; the roof's, the roof's on fire!

A flash from the window brought Mary to view,
She screamed as around her the flames fiercely blew;
Where art thou, mother!
Oh! fly to me, brother!
Ah! save your poor Mary, who lives but for you!
Leave not poor Mary,
Ah! save your poor Mary!
Her visioned form descrying,
On wings of horror flying,
The youth erects his frantick gaze,
Then plunges in the maddening blaze!
AlofThe dauntless soars,
The flaming room explores;
The roof in cinders crushes,
Through tumbling walls he rushes!
She's safe from Fear's alarms;
She faints in Edward's arms!

Oh! Nature, such thy triumphs are,
Thy simplest child can bravely dare.