[Norma]
A Legend of the Wayne Highlands
long the lake's wild northern shore
An island dark with trees
Lies shadow-like, and o'er and o'er
At midnight thru a leafy door
Comes music on the breeze,
Sweet music on the breeze,
Where sad-eyed Norma dreams,
And o'er the wave, in thru the trees
The mellow moonlight streams.
And Norma's voice is sweet to hear
As the breathing of a bell;
But while so welcome to the ear
Of any one afar or near,
The notes, O few can tell!
The notes, O few can tell!
Falling so wildly sweet,
Like the mournful ringing of a bell
With the tones still incomplete.
How came this maid upon the isle
Within the Hills of Wayne?
Why sings she sweetly all the while
As if to ease her self-denial?
Why sings she a refrain
At the lonely midnight hour
On an island dark with trees,
Enchanting souls unto her bower
By such sweet melodies?
The legend runs:—That long ago
A lover came to woo,
But left her—why?—(no man doth know)
For while her love like wine did flow
Away from her he drew—
He drew from her away,
While she was left forlorn
And ever (so the legends say)
Did daily for him mourn.
But Norma left her home one night
When all were fast asleep
And angel-like she trod the light
Moonpath across the waters bright
Until she ceased to weep,
Until she ceased to weep,
Singing a sweet, sweet song
That on the lake that lay asleep
The night-wind did prolong.