XI.
Then the Georgian, speaking softly,
Said: "A brown-eyed little one
Used to wait among the roses,
For me, when the day was done;
And amid the early fragrance
Of those blossoms, fresh and sweet,
Up and down the old verandah
I would chase my darling's feet.
But on earth no more the beauty
Of her face my eye shall greet,
Nevermore I'll hear the music
Of those merry pattering feet--
Ah, the solemn starlight, falling
On the far-off Georgia bloom,
Tells no tale unto my darling
Of her absent father's doom."