Did I not wash the clothes for you, O my mother?
Why did you curse me in this way?
The Mother—
Nay, child, I cursed thee not. But on a day—and only once—I said: “I hope she may never marry!”
The Daughter—
And was not that wish ill enough—that I should never be married? You could not have wished me worse just then.
For—when I was young—I knew not what it meant—the marrying of your daughter.
BURIAL OF THE SOLDIER
Near the pebbly shores grows a green elm-tree.
Under the tree a soldier is dying.