 | The forest minstrel |  |
199
THE ROSE AND MAIDEN.
With dew-drops on her diadem,
The rose sat queenlike in her bower,
And round her, on their pensile stems,
Hung many a sweet young flower;
And 'mongst those blooms a maiden stood
In radiant beauty's morning pride,
With dewy glances worshipping
The lover at her side.
And there was music on the wind,
And beauty in the earth, and sky,
And with the living tide of bliss,
All life seemed throbbing high.
The rose sat queenlike in her bower,
And round her, on their pensile stems,
Hung many a sweet young flower;
And 'mongst those blooms a maiden stood
In radiant beauty's morning pride,
With dewy glances worshipping
The lover at her side.
And there was music on the wind,
And beauty in the earth, and sky,
And with the living tide of bliss,
All life seemed throbbing high.
200
The rose's spray was dry and bare,
And broken stalks around her lay;
The rose, and her companions fair,
Has passed in tears away;
And in that life-deserted bower
I saw a pale and drooping girl,
Whose dim eye shed upon the earth
Full many a liquid pearl.
And there was wailing on the wind,
And in her breast a grief untold;
Where vanished love had left behind
His shadow black and cold.
And broken stalks around her lay;
The rose, and her companions fair,
Has passed in tears away;
And in that life-deserted bower
I saw a pale and drooping girl,
Whose dim eye shed upon the earth
Full many a liquid pearl.
And there was wailing on the wind,
And in her breast a grief untold;
Where vanished love had left behind
His shadow black and cold.
The virgin snow-wreath, chill and white,
Lay glistening on the frozen spray,
And like pure marble monuments,
O'er all the blossoms lay;
And then beside the open grave,
Wrapped in the shroud that maiden lay;
The lashes of her leaden eyes
Shadowing the cheek of clay;
And there were anthems on the wind,
And agony in many a breast,
As, earth to earth, they there consigned,
The broken heart to rest.
Lay glistening on the frozen spray,
And like pure marble monuments,
O'er all the blossoms lay;
And then beside the open grave,
Wrapped in the shroud that maiden lay;
The lashes of her leaden eyes
Shadowing the cheek of clay;
And there were anthems on the wind,
And agony in many a breast,
As, earth to earth, they there consigned,
The broken heart to rest.
| The forest minstrel | |