Ellen Gray or, The dead maiden's curse. A poem, by the late Dr. Archibald Macleod [i.e. W. L. Bowles] |
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 | Ellen Gray |  |
Yon tempest-shatter'd elm, that heavily
Sways to the wind, seems for the dead to sigh.
How many generations, since the day
Of its green pride, have pass'd, like leaves, away;
How many children of the hamlet play'd
Round its hoar trunk, who at its feet were laid,
Wither'd and grey old men! In life's first bloom,
How many has it seen borne to the tomb!
But never one so sunk in hopeless woe
As she, who in that nameless grave lies low.
Sways to the wind, seems for the dead to sigh.
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Of its green pride, have pass'd, like leaves, away;
How many children of the hamlet play'd
Round its hoar trunk, who at its feet were laid,
Wither'd and grey old men! In life's first bloom,
How many has it seen borne to the tomb!
But never one so sunk in hopeless woe
As she, who in that nameless grave lies low.
| Ellen Gray | |