Cold, inanimate beside her,
By the ruthless Cow-boys slain
In the night-time whilst defenseless,
He—the brave—she loved was lain.
O’er her snowy dress were scattered
Stains of deep and fearful dye,
And the soul’s glance beamed no longer
From her tearless, vacant eye.
Round her slight form hung the tresses
Braided oft with pride and care,