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Sindhu.
99
And killed one bird,—it was the male,
Oh cruel deed and base!
The female gave a plaintive wail
And looked me in the face!
The wail and sad reproachful look
In plain words seemed to say,
A widowed life I cannot brook,
The forfeit thou must pay.
What was my darling's crime that thou
Him wantonly shouldst kill?
The curse of blood is on thee now,
Blood calls for red blood still.
And so I die—a bloody death—
But not for this I mourn,
To feel the world pass with my breath
I gladly could have borne,
But for my parents, who are blind,
And have no other stay,—
This, this, weighs sore upon my mind,
And fills me with dismay.
