I remember a maiden.
Her face invades my dream.
Her hair was black as the midnight wave,
Her eyes were brown and her smile was grave,
And her skin was smooth as cream.
She lived among the mountains
In a cottage thatched with straw.
She was only a modest country maid
But her ways were the ways of a lady
And her days are now no more.
Shy as a bird in the thicket,
Her voice was as sweet as a thrush
She scorned to visit the bustling town,
But roamed the hills as the sun went down,
And made the heavens blush.
Tender her touch and gentle
On her pony’s muzzle soft.
All the beasts of the field were her slaves,
And she queened it over the braves
Of the farms and the crofts.
Now there’s a twilight darkening
Since her sun has sunk to rest;
There was pain in my heart as it broke
For a word which I left unspoken,
And which burns in my breast !
Mona’s Herald 15.1.63