SHE sat beside the mountain springs, Her feet were on the water's brink, And oft she wept when she beheld The birds that lighted there to drink; She wept: but as they spread their wings, Her sweet voice follow'd them on high: "He will return -- I know him well; He would not leave me here to die." And there she sat, as months roll'd on, Unmindful of the changing year; She heeded not the sun, or snow, All seasons were alike to her. She look'd upon the frozen stream, She listen'd to the night bird's cry: "He will return -- I know him well; He would not leave me here to die." And still she sits beside the springs, And combs the gold drips of her hair; Red berries for a bridal crown At early morn she places there. At every shadow on the grass She starts, and murmurs with a sigh, "He will return -- I know him well; He would not leave me here to die." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE OLD VICARAGE, GRANTCHESTER by RUPERT BROOKE INGRATEFUL [OR UNGRATEFUL] BEAUTY THREATENED by THOMAS CAREW LAURA SLEEPING; ODE by CHARLES COTTON IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 130 by ALFRED TENNYSON NORTHERN FARMER, NEW STYLE by ALFRED TENNYSON A MARLOW MADRIGAL by JOSEPH ASHBY-STERRY TO A PROFILE by BERNARD BARTON |