Page:A Selection of Original Songs, Scraps, Etc., by Ned Farmer (1st ed.).djvu/23



sat, the statue of despair, Her silken black dishevell'd hair In wild disorder hung, while she Bowed 'neath her load of misery. Her deeply dark, yet tearless eye Was prayer-like lifted to the sky, As she, in piteous accents wild, Bewail'd her dying vagrant child.

It was a Gipsy's form and face, Who in that wild and lonely place, Had sat her down in madness, o'er The fever'd creature that she bore. Oh! 'twas a saddening sight, to see The mother's yearning agony, As she, in piteous accents wild Bewail'd her dying vagrant child.