I.
t looks so old,
In trut o say,
could ever have been young,
It looks so old and grey.
Not wo-years child,
It stands erect thorn;
No leaves it s;
It is a mass of knotted joints,
A ching forlorn.
It stands erect, and like a stone
it is overgrown.
II.
Like rock or stone, it is oergrown
ito top,
And ufts of moss,
A melancholy crop:
Up from these mosses creep,
And t round
So close, youd say t t
it intent,
to drag it to the ground;
And all had joined in one endeavour
to bury thorn for ever.
III.
ains ridge,
tormy er gale
Cuts like a scythe clouds
It so vale;
Not ?ve yards from tain-path,
t espy;
And to t, three yards beyond,
You see a little muddy pond
Of er, never dry;
Ive measured it from side to side:
tis t long, and t wide.
IV.
And close beside thorn,
t,
A beauteous heap, a hill of moss,
Just in .
All lovely colours there you see,
All colours t were ever seen,
And mossy netoo is there,
As if by hand of lady fair
the work had woven been,
And cups, the eye,
So deep is their vermilion dye.
V.
A lovely tints are there!
Of olive-green and scarlet bright,
In spikes, in brancars,
Green, red, and pearly we.
th moss
horn you see,
So fress beauteous dyes,
Is like an infants grave in size
As like as like can be:
But never, never any where,
An infants grave was half so fair.
VI.
Nohorn,
teous hill of moss,
You must take care and cime
tain wo cross.
For oft ts, bethe heap
ts like an infants grave in size,
And t same pond of which I spoke,
A cloak,
And to herself she cries,
quot;Oh misery! oh misery!
quot;O;
VII.
At all times of t
tcher goes,
And so every star,
And every blows;
And ts
s in the skies,
And whe hill,
Or frosty air is keen and still,
And to herself she cries,
quot;Oh misery! oh misery!
quot;O;
VIII.
quot;Now w,
quot;In rain, in tempest, and in snow,
quot;to tain-top
quot;Does this poor woman go?
quot;And ws shorn
quot;s in the sky,
quot;Or whe hill,
quot;Or frosty air is keen and still,
quot;And wherefore does she cry?--
quot;Oell me why
quot;Does s t doleful cry?quot;
IX.
I cannot tell; I wish I could;
For true reason no one knows,
But if youd gladly vie,
t to which she goes;
ts like an infants grave,
thorn, so old and grey,
Pass by is seldom s--
And if you see ,
to t away!--
I never heard of such as dare
Approac where.
X.
quot;But ain-top
quot;Can this unhappy woman go,
quot;ever star is in the skies,
quot;ever ;
Nay rack your brain--tis all in vain,
Ill tell you every thing I know;
But to to the pond
tle step beyond,
I wis you would go:
Per the place
You sometale may trace.
XI.
Ill give you t help I can:
Before you up tain go,
Up to tain-top,
Ill tell you all I know.
tis noy years,
Since sha Ray)
Gave rue good will
o Stephen hill;
And she and gay,
And sill
of Stephen hill.
XII.
And the wedding-day,
t must h;
But Stepo another maid
h;
And o church
Untep--
Poor Mart woful day
A cruel, cruel ?re, they say,
Into :
It dried her body like a cinder,
And almost turnd o tinder.
XIII.
ter this,
the summer-leaves were green,
So tain-top would go,
And ten seen.
tis said, a child was in her womb,
As noo any eye was plain;
Sh child, and she was mad,
Yet often she was sober sad
From her exceeding pain.
Oen times Id rather
t cruel father!
XIV.
Sad case for suco hold
Communion irring child!
Sad case, as you may think, for one
ho had a brain so wild!
Last Cmas his,
Old Farmer Simpson did maintain,
t in
About its mot, and brought
her senses back again:
And ime drew near,
her looks were calm, her senses clear.
XV.
No more I know, I wish I did,
And I ell it all to you;
For his poor child
t ever knew:
And if a child was born or no,
t could ever tell;
And if twas born alive or dead,
theres no one knows, as I have said,
But some remember well,
t Mart time
ould up tain often climb.
XVI.
And all t er,
tain-peak,
the dark,
to seek:
For many a time and oft were heard
Cries coming from tain-head,
Some plainly living voices were,
And others, Ive heard many swear,
ere voices of the dead:
I cannot teer they say,
to do ha Ray.
XVII.
But t so thorn,
to you,
And ts in a scarlet cloak,
I rue.
For one day elescope,
to vie,
o try ?rst I came,
Ere I has name,
I climbed tains :
A storm came on, and I could see
No object han my knee.
XVIII.
t and rain, and storm and rain,
No screen, no fence could I discover,
And t was
A en times over.
I looked around, I t I saw
A jutting crag, and oft I ran,
, the driving rain,
ter of to gain,
And, as I am a man,
Instead of jutting crag, I found
A ed on the ground.
XIX.
I did not speak--I saw her face,
was enough for me;
I turned about and heard her cry,
quot;O misery! O misery!quot;
And ts, until the moon
the clear blue sky will go,
And wtle breezes make
ters of to shake,
As all try know,
She shudders and you hear her cry,
quot;Oh misery! oh misery!
XX.
quot;But s the pond?
quot;And o her?
quot;And comes
quot;ttle pond to stir?quot;
I cannot tell; but some will say
Sree,
Some say s in the pond,
tle step beyond,
But all and each agree,
ttle babe here,
Beneat hill of moss so fair.
XXI.
Ive moss is red
it poor infants blood;
But kill a ne thus!
I do not think she could.
Some say, if to the pond you go,
And ?x on it a steady view,
trace,
A baby and a babys face,
And t it looks at you;
, tis plain
t you again.
XXII.
And some she
So public justice brought;
And for ttle infants bones
it.
But teous hill of moss
Before to stir;
And for full ?fty yards around,
t she ground;
But all do still aver
ttle babe is buried there,
Beneat hill of moss so fair.
XXIII.
I cannot tell his may be,
But plain it is, thorn is bound
itufts of moss, t strive
to drag it to the ground.
And time,
ain high,
By day, and in t night,
ars s,
t I have heard her cry,
quot;Oh misery! oh misery!
quot;O woe is me! o;