The Maid’s Lament
Walter Savage Landor
1775 to 1864
Track 1
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He hid his face amid the shades of death.
'Twas vain, in holy ground
To vex myself and him: I now would give
Pray for him, gentle souls, whoe'er you be,
Wept he as bitter tears.
And wearied all my thought
These may she never share.
I check'd him while he spoke; yet, could he speak,
And waking me to weep
I waste for him my breath
My love could he but live
Than daisies in the mould,
Merciful God! such was his latest prayer,
Who lately lived for me, and, when he found
Who wasted his for me! but mine returns,
For reasons not to love him once I sought,
I loved him not; and yet, now he is gone,
I feel I am alone.
Alas! I would not check.
And this lorn bosom burns
And oh! pray too for me!
Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold,
With stifling heat, heaving it up in sleep,
Tears that had melted his soft heart: for years
His name and life's brief date.
Where children spell, athwart the churchyard gate,