 | Women must weep |  |
LOST.
Sweet and tall,
Soft and pure,
She had grown like a blossom that hugs the wall,
That of shelter and rest is sure,
And afar from the treacherous lure
Where the shadows come, and the tempters call,
And the blasts of the angry tempest fall,
With the wounds that no balm can cure.
Sweet and tall,
Soft and pure,
Like a flower that is yet unknown to all,
In her modest grace demure.
Soft and pure,
She had grown like a blossom that hugs the wall,
That of shelter and rest is sure,
And afar from the treacherous lure
Where the shadows come, and the tempters call,
And the blasts of the angry tempest fall,
With the wounds that no balm can cure.
Sweet and tall,
Soft and pure,
Like a flower that is yet unknown to all,
In her modest grace demure.
Heigh! ho!
Maids are sweet,
And the lovers come, and the lovers go,
In the study and the street,
And the lovers still must meet;
And as they have woo'd they will ever so,
While the crimson lips will scarce say No,
When their time has dawn'd to greet.
Heigh! ho!
Maids are sweet,
And the lust that ravens to and fro
Will not spare the foolish feet.
Maids are sweet,
And the lovers come, and the lovers go,
In the study and the street,
And the lovers still must meet;
And as they have woo'd they will ever so,
While the crimson lips will scarce say No,
When their time has dawn'd to greet.
Heigh! ho!
Maids are sweet,
And the lust that ravens to and fro
Will not spare the foolish feet.
Fond and shy,
Glad and good,
Like a snowflake dropp'd from the upper sky,
Like a leaflet from the wood,
That in solitude has stood,
She was blown by the adverse blasts, to try
Her tender wings, when they could not fly,
With the fury of the flood.
Fond and shy,
Glad and good,
And she heard the stormy waters cry,
In her simple maidenhood.
Glad and good,
Like a snowflake dropp'd from the upper sky,
Like a leaflet from the wood,
That in solitude has stood,
51
Her tender wings, when they could not fly,
With the fury of the flood.
Fond and shy,
Glad and good,
And she heard the stormy waters cry,
In her simple maidenhood.
Lost! lost!
Deaf and blind,
She plunged in the stream that no life has crost,
With the ever-wailing wind,
And the greedy rocks that grind
The wretches who every hour are tost
To the doom of the endless night and frost—
Who a respite cannot find.
Lost! lost!
Deaf and blind,
She had idly err'd, and she paid the cost,
And she left no tale behind.
Deaf and blind,
She plunged in the stream that no life has crost,
With the ever-wailing wind,
And the greedy rocks that grind
The wretches who every hour are tost
To the doom of the endless night and frost—
Who a respite cannot find.
Lost! lost!
Deaf and blind,
She had idly err'd, and she paid the cost,
And she left no tale behind.
| Women must weep | |