The Dream and Other Poems | ||
261
THE LAMENT FOR SHUIL DONALD'S DAUGHTER.
I
In old Shuil Donald's cottage there are many voices weeping,And stifled sobs, and murmurings of sorrow wild and vain,
For the old man's cherish'd blessing on her bed of death lies sleeping,—
The sleep from which no human wish can rouse her soul again.
Oh, dark are now those gentle eyes which shone beneath their lashes
So full of laughter and of love—it seems but yesterday—
Well may Shuil Donald mourn beside his hearth's forsaken ashes,
His lily of the valley is wither'd away!
262
II
The spring shall come to other hearts with breezes and with showers,But lonely winter still shall reign in old Shuil Donald's home;
Others may raise the song of joy, and laugh away the hours,
But he—oh! never more may joy to his lone dwelling come.
Her name shall be an empty sound, in idle converse spoken,
Forgotten shall she be by those who mourn her most to-day—
All, all but one, who wanders with his Highland spirit broken,
His lily of the valley is wither'd away!
III
And he—long, long, at even-tide, when sunset rays are gleaming,That sad old man shall sit within his lonely cottage door,
Desolate, desolate shall sit, and muse with idle dreaming
On days when her returning step came quick across the moor.
263
Shall rouse to warmth his aged heart, when darkly sinks the day—
Never, oh! never more on earth those loved ones may be meeting—
His lily of the valley is wither'd away!
The Dream and Other Poems | ||