42
THE SPANIARDS' GRAVES.
Wives, mothers, maidens, wistfully, in vain
Questioned the distance for the yearning sail,
That, leaning landward, should have stretched again
White arms wide on the gale,
Questioned the distance for the yearning sail,
That, leaning landward, should have stretched again
White arms wide on the gale,
To bring back their beloved. Year by year,
Weary they watched, till youth and beauty passed,
And lustrous eyes grew dim and age grew near,
And hope was dead at last.
Weary they watched, till youth and beauty passed,
And lustrous eyes grew dim and age grew near,
And hope was dead at last.
Still summer broods o'er that delicious land,
Rich, fragrant, warm with skies of golden glow:
Live any yet of that forsaken band
Who loved so long ago?
Rich, fragrant, warm with skies of golden glow:
Live any yet of that forsaken band
Who loved so long ago?
O Spanish women, over the far seas,
Could I but show you where your dead repose
Could I send tidings on this northern breeze
That strong and steady blows!
Could I but show you where your dead repose
Could I send tidings on this northern breeze
That strong and steady blows!
Dear dark-eyed sisters, you remember yet
These you have lost, but you can never know
One stands at their bleak graves whose eyes are wet
With thinking of your woe!
These you have lost, but you can never know
One stands at their bleak graves whose eyes are wet
With thinking of your woe!
