To the Mountainside

In the dull waste I cried
For the lover slumbering—
And the mystic wind replied
With a storm’s sad rumbling
To the blooms of the mountainside.

Such a burden I was made to lift
O’er passages amid the trees
While silently, silently did drift
The melancholy breeze
Bearing my life, my love and my gift.

‘Neath the clouds in their stratus gloom,
O’er the brooks that slither by
I bore to the rock-bound tomb
One tear to the whispering sky
Where now dwells my groom.

Though now in Heaven’s shining hours
There yet may dwell a sun,
Though may watered be the flowers
No ray shall golden run
On what once was ours

Upon this sacred earth I lie,
Where the bones now rest,
But I shall my soul deny
The luxury from out my breast
To dare to say good-bye.

I shall seal with one kiss
The cross within the ground
And feel the celestial bliss
Of spirits that surround
A corpse as sweet as this.

I shall never bid adieu
To the worms that now reside
‘Neath the storm without a hue
By the snow-shod mountainside
That shall house my spirit too.

A blade I raise within my hand
And my heart I now impale
To join him in the land
Where spirits solitary sail
To the kingdom of a farther strand.