autumn
Withered from the woods again;
Till the bird had hushed its singing
In the silvery sycamore,
And the nest was left unsheltered
In the lilac by the door;
Saying, still, that she was happy--
None so much as she was blest--
None, of all the many maidens
In the Valley of the West.

III.

Down the heath and o'er the moorland
Blows the wild gust high and higher,
Suddenly the maiden pauses
Spinning at the cabin fire,
And quick from her taper fingers
Falls away the flaxen thread,
As some neighbor entering, whispers,
"Jessie Carol lieth dead."
Then, as pressing close her forehead
To the window-pane, she sees
Two stout men together digging
Underneath the church-yard trees.
And she asks in kindest accents,
"Was she happy when she died?"--
Sobbing all the while to see them
Void the heavy earth aside;
Or, upon their mattocks leaning,
Through their fingers numb to blow,
For the wintry air is chilly,
And the grave-mounds white with snow;
And the neighbor answers softly,
"Do not, dear one, do not cry:
At the break of day she asked us
If we thought that she must die;
And when I had told her, sadly,
That I feared it would be so,
Smiled she, saying, ''Twill be weary
Digging in the churchyard snow!'
'Earth,' I said, 'was very dreary--
That its paths at best were rough;
And she whispered, she was ready,
That her life was long enough.
So she lay serene and silent,
Till the wind, that wildly drove,
Soothed her from her mortal sorrow,
Like the lullaby of love."
Thus they talked, while one that loved her
Smoothed her tresses dark and long,
Wrapped her white shroud down, and simply
Wove her sorrow to this song:

IV.

Sweetly sleeps she: pain and passion
Burn no longer on her brow--
Weary watchers, ye may leave her--
She will never need you now!
While the wild spring bloomed and faded,
Till the autumn came and passed,
Calmly, patiently, she waited--
Rest has come to her at last!
Never have the blessed angels,
As they walked with her apart,
Kept pale Sorrow's battling armies
Half so softly from her heart
Therefore, think not, ye that loved her,
Of the pallor hushed an