 | Poems |  |
To die—and one so young and one so true,
And both so beautiful and brave to view:
She—with her braided locks more black than night,
And eye so darkly, deeply, wildly bright;
He—with his slender limbs and body bare
And small hands tangled in his mother's hair,
And there to whiten on the desert-sands,
A landmark for the laden desert bands!
That thought is stamping anguish on her brow,
That dread hath taught her what she utters now.
And both so beautiful and brave to view:
She—with her braided locks more black than night,
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He—with his slender limbs and body bare
And small hands tangled in his mother's hair,
And there to whiten on the desert-sands,
A landmark for the laden desert bands!
That thought is stamping anguish on her brow,
That dread hath taught her what she utters now.
| Poems | |