The Maiden's Sorrow

Seven long years has the desert rain Dropped on the clods that hide thy face; Seven long years of sorrow and pain I have thought of thy burial-place. Thought of thy fate in the distant west, Dying with none that loved thee near; They who flung the earth on thy breast Turned from the spot williout a tear. There, I think, on that lonely grave, Violets spring in the soft May shower; There, in the summer breezes, wave Crimson phlox and moccasin flower. There the turtles alight, and there Feeds with her fawn the timid doe; There, when the winter woods are bare, Walks the wolf on the crackling snow. Soon wilt thou wipe my tears away; All my task upon earth is done; My poor father, old and gray, Slumbers beneath the churchyard stone. In the dreams of my lonely bed, Ever thy form before me seems; All night long I talk with the dead, All day long I think of my dreams. This deep wound that bleeds and aches, This long pain, a sleepless pain-- When the Father my spirit takes, I shall feel it no more again.