And they bore away the royal dead with requiems to his rest,
With banners and with knightly plumes all waving in the wind—
But a woman’s broken heart was left in its lone despair behind.
THE AMERICAN FOREST GIRL.
A fearful gift upon thy heart is laid,
Woman!—a power to suffer and to love;
Therefore thou so canst pity.
Wildly and mournfully the Indian drum
On the deep hush of moonlight forests broke—
“Sing us a death-song, for thine hour is come”—