Classic Poem

A maiden came to Castletown;
A tear stood in her eye;
Soon on her cheek it trickled down;
Sore did the maiden cry.

I called her to my side, and said,
"Why, maiden, do you cry?"
A while her weeping then was stayed,
But she made no reply.

I spoke to her, in kindly tones,
Of friendship and of love;
I asked about her loved ones,
And where she meant to rove.

She, with a voice in sadness lost,
And choked with many a sigh,
Said that her father's form was toss'd
Beneath the billows high.

Her mother had for many years
Been silent in the grave;
Her brother, too, she told in tears,
Was killed--a soldier brave.

And now her father's friends withheld
The friendship once they gave;
And she, an orphan lone, beheld
No succour but the grave.

She then besought some menial form
Of duty to fulfil,
And gladly would the child conform
To many a trying ill.

I said, "Dear maiden, come with me;
My home shall too be thine,
And with my daughters ye shall be
Another child of mine."

And then she wept for very joy;
Her tongue would not convey
The words she sought it to employ
What thanks she longed to say.

And with, a trembling step she came,
And, ere a little while,
Her joys returned, of old the same,
And came her olden smile.

And she by all was fondly loved;
She was so good and kind,
And gentle in her way, and proved
A charm of charms combined.

Years rolled away, eight happy years,
Since the memorial day;
Then in the town gay joy appears,
And merry minstrels play.

And loudly peal the merry bells;
It is her wedding-day;
It is my son who gladly tells
"I will," I love to say.