Poems (Denver)/Lady of Poland
LADY OF POLAND.
Lady of Poland, wherefore art thou sad,
Why is thine eye so dim?
Will not thy bosom echo to the glad
Sound of our vesper-hymn?
Why is thine eye so dim?
Will not thy bosom echo to the glad
Sound of our vesper-hymn?
"I heard it, and into my heart there stole
A thousand memories,
That brought sad recollections to my soul,
And tears into my eyes.
A thousand memories,
That brought sad recollections to my soul,
And tears into my eyes.
"The past arose, and pictured to my sight
A far-off land and fair,
Whose skies unto my heart seemed full of light,
And fragrant was the air.
A far-off land and fair,
Whose skies unto my heart seemed full of light,
And fragrant was the air.
"And then arose a home, a home of love,
Which once I called my own;
The peaceful stars a moment smiled above,
Then left me more alone.
Which once I called my own;
The peaceful stars a moment smiled above,
Then left me more alone.
"The flowers that bloomed there once, the birds that sung,
Had their brief happy day;
When on the winds my glad notes also rung,
But died in grief away.
Had their brief happy day;
When on the winds my glad notes also rung,
But died in grief away.
"My gallant brother's arm upheld me, while
Brig lit shone our summer sun;
Fearless of heart! when will you once more smile
Upon your cherished one?
Brig lit shone our summer sun;
Fearless of heart! when will you once more smile
Upon your cherished one?
"Familiar voices oft in other times
Have risen upon the air,
When the sweet music of the evening-chimes
Invited us to prayer.
Have risen upon the air,
When the sweet music of the evening-chimes
Invited us to prayer.
"And therefore do their sounds bring to my heart
Memories that will not sleep,
And recollections that will not depart;
And therefore do I weep.
Memories that will not sleep,
And recollections that will not depart;
And therefore do I weep.
"Hands that have clasped mine own in other days,
Have grasped the sword instead;
Brows that were made to wear the soldier's bays,
Have fallen among the dead.
Have grasped the sword instead;
Brows that were made to wear the soldier's bays,
Have fallen among the dead.
"Bloom and decay and life and death and all
That makes our being bright,
Or wraps it in a dark, funereal pall,
Have passed before my sight.
That makes our being bright,
Or wraps it in a dark, funereal pall,
Have passed before my sight.
"Still in my dreams I hear the conqueror's tread
Sounding across the deep!
Let, then, lost Poland's daughter mourn her dead,
Let the lone exile weep."
Sounding across the deep!
Let, then, lost Poland's daughter mourn her dead,
Let the lone exile weep."