Classic Poem

" Three miles beyond the hamlet,
Three miles beyond the mere,
There hangs a shred of scarlet —
The Rommanis were here!
Right well I know the token
They leave where'er they stray:
Some Gipsy from her kirtle
Has torn this strip away.

" It's fluttering in the thicket,
And, as I search around,
I find the Gipsy foot-prints
Upon the mossy ground
'Twas here the Gipsy lovers
Passed underneath the trees;
Among a hundred Gorgios'
I'd know such steps as these.

" I sit alone, sad-musing,
For yonder on the sward
I see a few white ashes,
And firebrands black and charred.
And whither have they wandered,
The Gipsy and his love? —
Perhaps o'er far-off mountains
With weary feet they rove. "

Oh, sorrow not, my darling!
Oh, grieve not for the twain!
To-night they'll rest them gladly,
And pitch their tent again.
Again the kettle's singing,
Again the coals will shine,
And from her skirt the damsel
Will tear another sign.

Then never weep, my darling!
So long as love is true,
Each maid shall find a lover,
Each man a maid to woo.
And though no kindly embers
Are blazing close at hand,
Be sure the fire glows cheerly
In some more favoured land.