THE DAUGHTER'S CURSE.
“Why are you so lost in thinking,
Daughter mine?
Why are you so lost in thinking?
You who were so fond of laughing
And whose face was always glad!”
“I have killed a little pigeon,
Mother mine;
I have killed a little pigeon,
A forsaken little pigeon;
It was white; ah, white like snow.”
“’Twas no pigeon, I misdoubt me,
Daughter mine;
’Twas no pigeon, I misdoubt me;
But your brain is touched, I fear me,
And your look is strange and wild.”
“Oh, I have killed a little child,
Mother mine;
Oh, I have killed a little child;
My new-born babe, my own fair child—
Would I could die with remorse!”
“What do you mean to do, I ask,
Daughter mine?
What do you mean to do, I ask?
How will you mend this luckless task—
How will you find God’s mercy?”
