 | Stories that might be true |  |
97
THE PARTING.
Fling open your lattices, Maidens! a throng
Is passing your windows with shouting and song;
The Youth from his Home is departing, and they
His comrades are bidding him speed on his way.
Is passing your windows with shouting and song;
The Youth from his Home is departing, and they
His comrades are bidding him speed on his way.
Hark! loudly they cheer him, and fling in the air
Their caps bound with ribbons and garlanded fair;
Yet he wears no garland, nor joins in the song,
But walks silent and pale in the midst of the throng.
Their caps bound with ribbons and garlanded fair;
Yet he wears no garland, nor joins in the song,
But walks silent and pale in the midst of the throng.
They clink the full brimmers, the wine mantles high;
“Drink freely, drink deeply, dear Brother” they cry;
“With the cup drained at parting will that pass away
Which has fevered my bosom for many a day!”
“Drink freely, drink deeply, dear Brother” they cry;
“With the cup drained at parting will that pass away
Which has fevered my bosom for many a day!”
Now before the last house in the street stops the train,
And a Maiden peeps timidly forth at the pane,
And fast fall her tears, but she hides them there,
Behind wreaths of the woodbine and roses fair.
And a Maiden peeps timidly forth at the pane,
And fast fall her tears, but she hides them there,
Behind wreaths of the woodbine and roses fair.
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And before the last house, ere they pass by the place,
The Youth lifts his eyes for a moment's space,
But he casts them down with a look of pain,
Nor raises his glance from the earth again;
The Youth lifts his eyes for a moment's space,
But he casts them down with a look of pain,
Nor raises his glance from the earth again;
“And hast Thou no flowers for thy garland yet found?
When so many, dear Brother, above and around,
Are blushing and beck'ning;—Ha! Maiden, let fall
Some flowers for his chaplet, Thou fairest of all!”
When so many, dear Brother, above and around,
Are blushing and beck'ning;—Ha! Maiden, let fall
Some flowers for his chaplet, Thou fairest of all!”
“What have I with a garland, dear Brothers, to do?
That have no kind Maiden to love me, like you;
In the heat of the Sun would its leaves decay,
The wind as it passed would blow them away.”
That have no kind Maiden to love me, like you;
In the heat of the Sun would its leaves decay,
The wind as it passed would blow them away.”
And further, and further with shouting and song,
They pass, and the Maiden looks after them long;
“Alas! He is going, the youth that I
Have loved so long and so silently;”
They pass, and the Maiden looks after them long;
“Alas! He is going, the youth that I
Have loved so long and so silently;”
“And here I must stay with this love of mine,
Where wreaths of the woodbine and roses twine,
But He, unto whom I'd have given each one,
And oh, how willingly! He is gone!”
Where wreaths of the woodbine and roses twine,
But He, unto whom I'd have given each one,
And oh, how willingly! He is gone!”
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