Chapter III

The marigold and rose had left the valley and the hill,
The pansy frail was sere in dust and dead the daffodil;
The aster tall yet wore its leaves, the "golden rob" its flowers,
But beauty and perfume had gone with summer's radiant hours.

From morn to night through forest glades with naught his path to
cheer,
The roebuck wandered moodily, o'er leaves all crisped and sere;
The bird still sang, but bridal song had changed to widow's wail,
And mourning she but grieved the more that grief might not avail.

But ah! the saddest change of all--the chilling blight had come
On hearts within whose holy bowers young love had made his home;
The verdure had departed thence, the vermeil tenderness
And frosty winds had brought to dust the growth of early bliss.

The maiden heard the murmuring stream but murmured no reply,
A melancholy coldness dwelt within her shrouded eye,
She scarcely heard _his_ burning prayer whose love no change might
quell,
And only lived enough to breathe an icy "fare-thee-well."