Page:The Golden Violet.pdf/218

Rh

Save that, beside a peasant's hearth, Tales of the race which gave her birth Would sometimes win the maiden's ear; And once, in a worst hour of fear, When the red fever raged around, Her place beside the couch was found Of sickness, and her patient care, And soothing look, and holy prayer, And skill in herbs, had power sublime Upon the sufferer's weary time: But, saving these, her winter day Was pass'd within the ruins grey; And ever summer noons were spent Beside the charmed lake, and there Her voice its silver sweetness sent To mingle with the air.