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52
LYRICAL POEMS.
THE FORSAKEN.
ALAS! ye woods, ye gloomy woods!
Ye woods of Miletin!
In summer and in winter too
Why are ye ever green?
Right glad were I did I not weep,
And my poor heart torment,
But, O good people, tell to me,
Who would not thus lament?
Where, where’s my father, father dear?
He in the grave is low;
Where, where’s my mother, mother good?
O’er her the grass doth grow:
Brothers and sisters none remain,
My lover they away have ta’en.
