Days, weeks, Months passed by. No tidings yet had Come to them, in that lone village by the sea, Ofttimes the sire would hand-in-hand take Baby for a walk āby the sad, sea wavesāā ā Then would the little one pick up shells And moss, and lisp so sweetly with Infantile grace, that the aged form would Straighten up, as if once more the fires of youth Burned brightly in his veins; and his old Bereaved heart would leap for joy.
Alas! when early Spring had come, and the little snowdrops Gleamed in the valley, little Bright-eyes Faded and was laid beneath them. O! then the sun went down in blackness grim. And the whole world seemed devoid of life; Not worth living, the old man cried. And Then he, too, alas! was laid beside the babe.
All through the long-, Long summer lonely Uranne dwelt. Her heart Low down beneath the Daisies. Uranne, the Pride of him who now, alas! was no more. Perchance He too was sleeping in that far-off land, Without a kindly hand to smooth his aching Brow, or wipe from his cheeks the damp Death dews.
One morning when the dew Had not yet left the sodden grass, She left the cot to look for her beloved. She sat her down āmid the dingy rocks, which Girt the shore. The little ripples kissed her feet Caressingly. Long she looked for a white sail, To greet her tired eyes.
Marco, dost hear Uranneās Call? Wilt thou no more return? My heart is Breaking with its load. No longer can I waitā ā But list! Iāll whisper in thine earā ā The blue āForget-Me Nots, The sweet Forget Me Notsā which thou Didāst place upon my breast. Thou wilt see them When thou comāst. None shall them remove. Sweetheart, I keep them till you come.
There they found her cold And stark. With hand pressed close to heart Where lay her flowers. The sounding sea seemed To forget to hurl its billows āgainst the beach Now white and shining. Eāen the little ripples Seemed to say, Uranne! And the great Mountain rocks would echo back, Uranne!
Years went by. The war, the Cruel war was at an end. And Peace with Flowing mantle had overspread the land;ā ā With anxious heart, but willing feet, the Soldier started for his dear old cabin nestled So snugly in the valley. Would he find them all? The dear old sire with his silvered hairā āPerchance He had lain him down to sleep, beside the wife Who had left him in his prime.
But she, the dear Uranne, she was there, no doubt of that. A stronger, Healthier lass neāer spun the dance. Then the baby, our baby. How she must have Grown. Wonder if she remembers me, her own dear Sire? Who oft would soothe and rock to sleep. O yes; Uranne has taught her to love and lisp My name.