Verses By Lady Geralda

Why, when I hear the stormy breath     Of the wild winter wind     Rushing o'er the mountain heath,     Does sadness fill my mind?     For long ago I loved to lie     Upon the pathless moor,     To hear the wild wind rushing by     With never ceasing roar;     Its sound was music then to me;     Its wild and lofty voice     Made by heart beat exultingly     And my whole soul rejoice.     But now, how different is the sound?     It takes another tone,     And howls along the barren ground     With melancholy moan.     Why does the warm light of the sun     No longer cheer my eyes?     And why is all the beauty gone     From rosy morning skies?     Beneath this lone and dreary hill     There is a lovely vale;     The purling of a crystal rill,     The sighing of the gale,     The sweet voice of the singing bird,     The wind among the trees,     Are ever in that valley heard;     While every passing breeze     Is loaded with the pleasant scent     Of wild and lovely flowers.     To yonder vales I often went     To pass my evening hours.     Last evening when I wandered there     To soothe my weary heart,     Why did the unexpected tear     From my sad eyelid start?     Why did the trees, the buds, the stream     Sing forth so joylessly?     And why did all the valley seem     So sadly changed to me?     I plucked a primrose young and pale     That grew beneath a tree     And then I hastened from the vale     Silent and thoughtfully.     Soon I was near my lofty home,     But when I cast my eye     Upon that flower so fair and lone     Why did I heave a sigh?     I thought of taking it again     To the valley where it grew.     But soon I spurned that thought as vain     And weak and childish too.     And then I cast that flower away     To die and wither there;     But when I found it dead today     Why did I shed a tear?     O why are things so changed to me?     What gave me joy before     Now fills my heart with misery,     And nature smiles no more.     And why are all the beauties gone     From this my native hill?     Alas! my heart is changed alone:     Nature is constant still.     For when the heart is free from care,     Whatever meets the eye     Is bright, and every sound we hear     Is full of melody.     The sweetest strain, the wildest wind,     The murmur of a stream,     To the sad and weary mind     Like doleful death knells seem.     Father! thou hast long been dead,     Mother! thou art gone,     Brother! thou art far away,     And I am left alone.     Long before my mother died     I was sad and lone,     And when she departed too     Every joy was flown.     But the world's before me now,     Why should I despair?     I will not spend my days in vain,     I will not linger here!     There is still a cherished hope     To cheer me on my way;     It is burning in my heart     With a feeble ray.     I will cheer the feeble spark     And raise it to a flame;     And it shall light me through the world,     And lead me on to fame.     I leave thee then, my childhood's home,     For all thy joys are gone;     I leave thee through the world to roam     In search of fair renown,     From such a hopeless home to part     Is happiness to me,     For nought can charm my weary heart     Except activity.