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a tale without a name.
Roved together 'mid the sweets that scent
My native vale: and he did gaze so fondly
In my face, and clasp my hand so tenderly
In his, I feel the pressure of it yet.
But, ah! 'twas but a dream!" And tears, those
Swift, unbidden messengers of grief, dimmed
Her soft pleading eyes.
My native vale: and he did gaze so fondly
In my face, and clasp my hand so tenderly
In his, I feel the pressure of it yet.
But, ah! 'twas but a dream!" And tears, those
Swift, unbidden messengers of grief, dimmed
Her soft pleading eyes.
The mother's brow grew dark.
"What! tears upon thy bridal morn? they ill
Become thee: thou shouldst be a woman now, and
Lay aside all childish things." "Oh! chide me
Not, my mother; but let me still weep on:
To-morrow, though my heart should break, I must
Not shed a tear."
"What! tears upon thy bridal morn? they ill
Become thee: thou shouldst be a woman now, and
Lay aside all childish things." "Oh! chide me
Not, my mother; but let me still weep on:
To-morrow, though my heart should break, I must
Not shed a tear."
Morn on her rosy wings went by;
The noon's hot, scorching rays had sunk into
The quiet shades of eve, when the bride-maidens
Sought the gentle bride. But when they came unto
Her room, they marveled much to find she
Was not there: they sought, but sought in vain; they
Called, but Echo only answered back
The noon's hot, scorching rays had sunk into
The quiet shades of eve, when the bride-maidens
Sought the gentle bride. But when they came unto
Her room, they marveled much to find she
Was not there: they sought, but sought in vain; they
Called, but Echo only answered back
