Page:The Forest Sanctuary.pdf/116

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LAYS OF MANY LANDS.



      Is it aught ev'n to her we mourn?
Doth she look on the tears by her kindred shed?
Doth she rest with the flowers o'er her gentle head,
      Or float on the light wind borne?

      We know not—but she is gone!
Her step from the dance, her voice from the song,
And the smile of her eye from the festal throng;—
      —She hath left her dwelling lone!

      When the waves at sunset shine,
We may hear thy voice, amidst thousands more,
In the scented woods of our glowing shore,
      But we shall not know 'tis thine!

      Ev'n so with the lov'd one flown!
Her smile in the starlight may wander by,
Her breath may be near in the wind's low sigh,
      Around us—but all unknown.

      Go forth, we have loos'd thy chain!
We may deck thy cage with the richest flowers,
Which the bright day rears in our eastern bowers,
      But thou wilt not be lur'd again.

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