Ulmarra

Alone — alone! With a heart like a stone, She maketh her moan At the feet of the trees, With her face on her knees, And her hair streaming over; Wildly, and wildly, and wildly; For she misses the tracks of her lover! Do you hear her, Ulmarra? Oh, where are the tracks of her lover? Go by — go by! They have told her a lie, Who said he was nigh, In the white-cedar glen — In the camps of his men: And she sitteth there weeping — Weeping, and weeping, and weeping, For the face of a warrior sleeping! Do you hear her, Ulmarra? Oh! where is her warrior sleeping? A dream! a dream! That they saw a bright gleam Through the dusk boughs stream, Where wild bees dwell, And a tomahawk fell, In moons which have faded; Faded, and faded, and faded, From woods where a chieftain lies shaded! Do you hear her, Ulmarra? Oh! where doth her chieftain lie shaded? Bewail! bewail! Who whispered a tale, That they heard on the gale, Through the dark and the cold, The voice of the bold; And a boomerang flying; Flying, and flying, and flying? Ah! her heart it is wasted with crying — Do you hear her, Ulmarra? Oh! her heart it is wasted with crying!