POEMS.
75
"And carry me forth," she dying said,
"Once more to the trysting tree,
Where its green leaves whisper o'er my head,
Let my parting moments be;
I will keep the tryst that to him I pledged,
Though false hath he proved to me!"
"Once more to the trysting tree,
Where its green leaves whisper o'er my head,
Let my parting moments be;
I will keep the tryst that to him I pledged,
Though false hath he proved to me!"
They bore her there and her bloom return'd,
And her eyes grew wildly bright,
As the fitful gleam from a dying lamp
Doth warn of fading light:
And she pass'd away with a sad sweet smile,
Worn down by her spirit's blight.
And her eyes grew wildly bright,
As the fitful gleam from a dying lamp
Doth warn of fading light:
And she pass'd away with a sad sweet smile,
Worn down by her spirit's blight.
The smile still played upon her cheek
As dews on rosebuds hang,
When through the leafy forest glades
A distant bugle ran,
And a graceful youth in joyful haste
From a panting courser sprang.
As dews on rosebuds hang,
When through the leafy forest glades
A distant bugle ran,
And a graceful youth in joyful haste
From a panting courser sprang.
One glance upon the maiden pale,
Who slept the tree below,
And his bounding form seem'd turn'd to stone,
And his cheek grew white as snow.
"Oh God!" he cried, "what direful ill
Hath struck this crushing blow?"
Who slept the tree below,
And his bounding form seem'd turn'd to stone,
And his cheek grew white as snow.
"Oh God!" he cried, "what direful ill
Hath struck this crushing blow?"
