Songs and Poems by George Sigerson :: :: University of Virginia Library

'Tis long, 'tis long, my Love, 'tis long—
'Tis long as death to me—
Since we, Glenara's woods among,
Stood neath the Rowan Tree,
You told me then of faith and fame,
And glorious deeds afar,
You vowed me here an honoured name
Won 'mid the storm of war!

“Remain, remain, remain, remain!”
Implored the Rowan Tree,
And every height, and every plain
And this poor heart in me!

But Fame took up her trump, and blew
A clear cold blast on high,
And lonely all the valley grew
With you no longer nigh.
The woodland veered from green to gold
For many a year and day,
But still that blast came loud and cold—
And still you are away!

“Return, return, return, return!”
Implores the Rowan Tree
And all the desert dells that mourn
With this sick heart in me.

'Tis long, 'tis long, my Love, 'tis long,—
'Tis death in life to me—
And all the woes of earth now throng
Around the Rowan Tree,
A crown of gold it well may twine
From sunshine of lost years,
And bright the bitter fruit may shine
So watered with my tears.

“Farewell, farewell, farewell, farewell.”
Bare grows the Rowan Tree,
The trump that sounds your name, may knell
For this dead heart in me.

May, 1898.