Classic Poem

" Forsworn! " The fields all sighed, " forsworn! "
When Sylvia pined into her shroud;
And all the pastures lay forlorn,
O'ershadowed with a cloud.

The homesteads wept with childish sob,
" Forsworn! " and every wheel was dumb;
The looms were muffled, each low throb
Was like a funeral drum.

The maidens hid in Maytime grots,
Their distaffs twined with blossoms sweet,
With pansies and forget-me-nots.
And laid them at her feet.

" Forsworn! " they sighed, and sprinkled o'er
Her breast the loveliest flowers of May;
And then these fair pall-bearers bore
Her gentle dust away.

" Forsworn! " The grandams moved about
Like useless shadows in their gloom;
And oft they brought their distaffs out,
And sat beside her tomb.

" Forsworn! " All nature sighs, " forsworn! "
And Sylvia's is a nameless grave;
The blossoms which above her mourn
Mid tangled grasses wave.