It was a winter’s evening, and fast came down the snow,
And keenly o’er the wide heath the bitter blast did blow,
When a damsel all forlorn, quite bewildered in her way,
Pressed her baby to her bosom, and sadly thus did say:—
“Oh! cruel was my father, that shut his door on me!
And cruel was my mother that such a sight could see;
And cruel is the wintry wind that chills my heart with cold;
But crueller than all, the youth who left my love for gold!
“Hush, hush, my lovely baby, and warm thee in my breast,—
Ah! little thinks thy father how sadly we’re distrest!
For cruel as he is, did he know but how we fare,
He’d shield us in his arms from this bitter piercing air.
“Cold, cold, my dearest jewel! thy little life is gone!
Oh, let my tears revive thee! so fast that trickle down;
My tears that gush so warm, oh! they freeze before they fall,
Ah! wretched, wretched mother! thou’rt now bereft of all.”
Then down she sank, despairing, upon the drifted snow,
And, wrung with killing anguish, lamented loud her woe:
She kissed her baby’s pale lips, and laid it by her side,
Then cast her eyes to heaven, and bowed her head and died.