The Widow.
She wanders round the old church walls,And by the grassy graves,As if some scanty solace thenceHer mourning spirit craves.When death, the cherished and the loved,Hath severed from the heart,To view the tombs where they were laidCan sad relief impart.Such loss is hers—but in that groundHer loved ones do not lie;Yet often there she wanders lone,And strange graves hovers nigh.Once she a husband kind possessed,And two sons stout and brave;But midst the stern November galesThe sea became their grave.Far off from land, their fishing barksThe whelming waves flowed o’er;At home she waited their return,But never saw them more!With faithful heart she’s wept for themThrough many fleeting years;Though o’er their graves she ne’er could payThe tribute of her tears.Now oft her slow and feeble stepsAre to that church-yard led,Because she feels more nigh to themAmid the silent dead!
She wanders round the old church walls,And by the grassy graves,As if some scanty solace thenceHer mourning spirit craves.When death, the cherished and the loved,Hath severed from the heart,To view the tombs where they were laidCan sad relief impart.Such loss is hers—but in that groundHer loved ones do not lie;Yet often there she wanders lone,And strange graves hovers nigh.Once she a husband kind possessed,And two sons stout and brave;But midst the stern November galesThe sea became their grave.Far off from land, their fishing barksThe whelming waves flowed o’er;At home she waited their return,But never saw them more!With faithful heart she’s wept for themThrough many fleeting years;Though o’er their graves she ne’er could payThe tribute of her tears.Now oft her slow and feeble stepsAre to that church-yard led,Because she feels more nigh to themAmid the silent dead!
She wanders round the old church walls,And by the grassy graves,As if some scanty solace thenceHer mourning spirit craves.
She wanders round the old church walls,
And by the grassy graves,
As if some scanty solace thence
Her mourning spirit craves.
When death, the cherished and the loved,Hath severed from the heart,To view the tombs where they were laidCan sad relief impart.
When death, the cherished and the loved,
Hath severed from the heart,
To view the tombs where they were laid
Can sad relief impart.
Such loss is hers—but in that groundHer loved ones do not lie;Yet often there she wanders lone,And strange graves hovers nigh.
Such loss is hers—but in that ground
Her loved ones do not lie;
Yet often there she wanders lone,
And strange graves hovers nigh.
Once she a husband kind possessed,And two sons stout and brave;But midst the stern November galesThe sea became their grave.
Once she a husband kind possessed,
And two sons stout and brave;
But midst the stern November gales
The sea became their grave.
Far off from land, their fishing barksThe whelming waves flowed o’er;At home she waited their return,But never saw them more!
Far off from land, their fishing barks
The whelming waves flowed o’er;
At home she waited their return,
But never saw them more!
With faithful heart she’s wept for themThrough many fleeting years;Though o’er their graves she ne’er could payThe tribute of her tears.
With faithful heart she’s wept for them
Through many fleeting years;
Though o’er their graves she ne’er could pay
The tribute of her tears.
Now oft her slow and feeble stepsAre to that church-yard led,Because she feels more nigh to themAmid the silent dead!
Now oft her slow and feeble steps
Are to that church-yard led,
Because she feels more nigh to them
Amid the silent dead!