 | Early and late poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
241
HEART-BROKEN.
She sat beneath a willow-tree—
The enamored air scarce dared to stir;
The bird sang for her, and the bee
Seemed as he worked to work for her.
Ah, never was maiden so fair,
And the corn was in the milk,
And its tassel of bright silk
Lying loose on the wind like her hair.
The enamored air scarce dared to stir;
The bird sang for her, and the bee
Seemed as he worked to work for her.
Ah, never was maiden so fair,
And the corn was in the milk,
And its tassel of bright silk
Lying loose on the wind like her hair.
Out of the woods a hunter came—
His bugle to the cadence swung,
As artfully he wove her name
In the soft ditty that he sung.
And a shudder filled all the green place,
And the cloud that was at dawn
Like the white wing of a swan,
Grew black, and o'ershadowed her face.
His bugle to the cadence swung,
As artfully he wove her name
In the soft ditty that he sung.
And a shudder filled all the green place,
And the cloud that was at dawn
Like the white wing of a swan,
Grew black, and o'ershadowed her face.
Beneath the willow-tree so low,
She lay—her hands upon her breast,
All cold and white like winter snow
Within the last year's empty nest.
And the song of the hunter was still,
And the blackbird on the thorn
Whistled hoarsely, and the corn
Rustled withered and dry on the hill.
She lay—her hands upon her breast,
All cold and white like winter snow
Within the last year's empty nest.
And the song of the hunter was still,
And the blackbird on the thorn
Whistled hoarsely, and the corn
Rustled withered and dry on the hill.
| Early and late poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |