Page:Poems Jones.djvu/169

THE BALLAD OF ETHEL LEE.

I.
AIR Ethel, the hill-side is cold,
 The pathway is rugged and bleak;
 The whirling snows whiten thy cheek;
The north wind is ruthless and bold;
 Hear the firs, how they shudder and shriek!
 There is nought for a maiden to seek—
Not a blossom would dare to unfold!
    Lovely Ethel, return
To thy place by the hearth, where the scarlet flowers brighten and burn!"

II.
"Oh barren and bleak is the hill!
 Oh cruel and cold is the wind!
 But the souls I am leaving behind
Are colder, less merciful still!
 They have thrust me out rude and unkind;
 Far I seek and no shelter I find;