Page:Cheskian Anthology.pdf/47



! a maid the hemp is weeding

In her master's garden-ground,

And a lark, towards her speeding,

Sings, "Why look so sadly round?"

"Well be sad, thou gentle lark!

They my lover have convey'd

To you castle-dungeon dark:

Had I but a pen to write—

Some sweet words of love I'd send him—

Thou, kind lark! shouldst take thy flight,

And with my kind thoughts attend him.

But I have no pen to treat him

With my love—so gentle bird!

With thy softest music greet him,

Music's most consoling word."