78
The WIDOW.
SAPPHICS.
Cold was the night wind, drifting fast the snows fell,
Wide were the downs and shelterless and naked,
When a poor Wanderer struggled on her journey
Weary and way-sore.
Wide were the downs and shelterless and naked,
When a poor Wanderer struggled on her journey
Weary and way-sore.
Drear were the downs, more dreary her reflections;
Cold was the night wind, colder was her bosom!
She had no home, the world was all before her,
She had no shelter.
Cold was the night wind, colder was her bosom!
She had no home, the world was all before her,
She had no shelter.
Fast o'er the bleak heath rattling drove a chariot,
"Pity me!" feebly cried the poor night wanderer.
"Pity me Strangers! lest with cold and hunger
"Here I should perish.
"Pity me!" feebly cried the poor night wanderer.
"Pity me Strangers! lest with cold and hunger
"Here I should perish.
"Once I had friends,—but they have all forsook me!
"Once I had parents,—they are now in Heaven!
"I had a home once—I had once a husband—
"Pity me Strangers!
"Once I had parents,—they are now in Heaven!
"I had a home once—I had once a husband—
"Pity me Strangers!
