Classic Poem

The sun went down—'t was summer time—from evening skies out-welling
A pallid purple glow was shed on farm and farmer's dwelling.
Weary with toil, but happy, came a troop of peasant men;
Now that the day's hard task was done, they turned them home again.

Their task was done, a worthy task for brave and loyal yeomen;
Their harvest was a daring band of felled or captured foemen.
They had gone forth to meet their foes that day by morning light,
And evening had already come when they had won the fight.

Hard by the field where waves of strife had flooded and reverted
Lay a small cottage near the road, at that time half deserted.
On the low door-step sat a girl who silently would cast
Her glance on the returning troops as they were marching past.

She looked as one who sought. Who knows to what her mind was turning?
A hue more deep than sunset gave upon her cheek was burning.
She sat so still, her searching look so warmly would entreat,
That, if she listened as she looked, she heard her own heart beat.

But ever as they went their way she watched the troops advancing,
From line to line, from man to man, her eager eyes were glancing;
There was a question in her look that trembled unexpressed,
For she was stiller than the sigh that stole from her full breast.

But in the end when all had passed with never once a token,
The poor girl's calm held out no more, her fortitude was broken;
Not loud she wept, but on her palm she slowly bowed her head,
And soon great tears came rolling down and bathed her cheek so red.

“Why do you weep? Take heart again, for hope is left us plainly.
My daughter, hear your mother's voice,—your tears are flowing vainly.
Although just here and now your eyes could find not him they sought,
Yet still he lives, and therefore lives because on you he thought.

“He thought of you, for when he left, he left with right good warning;
I bade him take no heedless risk, as he went off this morning.
He went because he had to go, he thought not of the fray,
I know he had no will to die and throw life's joy away.”

The girl looked up and trembled there, from dreams of sorrow waking.
Moved by foreboding, as it seemed, her heart's mute woe forsaking,
She straightway rose, she looked but once across the field of fight,
Stole to the road, then softly fled, and disappeared from sight.

An hour had passed, another hour, and night the earth had covered,
And over dusky wood and field a silver cloudlet hovered.
“She tarries yet.—My daughter, come, in vain is all your fear,
To-morrow while the dawn is gray your bridegroom will be here.”

At last she came. With silent step she neared the mother slowly,
Her gentle eyes were filled alone with tearless melancholy,
Her hand stretched out in greeting was as chill as the night air,
And her cold cheek was whiter than the cloud above her there.

“Oh, make my grave, my mother dear, for short will be my life now,
Since he who won my faith and troth has basely fled the strife now.
He thought of me and of himself, he followed as you planned,
And he betrayed his brothers' hope, betrayed his fatherland.

“When others came and he came not, I wept his fate most truly,
Among the dead there on the field I thought him lying duly;
I sorrowed, but my grief was sweet, 'twas not a grief to kill,
I would have lived a thousand years to sorrow for him still.

“Mother, I sought until the light no more the west was streaking,
None of the fallen had the face beloved which I was seeking.
I'll dwell no longer in a world where men deceive and lie;
I found not him among the dead, and therefore I will die.”