The Tearful Heath by Erurainon

The Tearful Heath

I lie upon the sad grey hill,
Where once the maidens sang,
And bright flowers brilliant bloomed,
To mark the coming of the spring.
Yet now upon the blasted heath,
Not but wind doth stir,
The tumbled leaves about my feet,
And crevices cold and firm.
I pray I hear a woman’s voice,
Far beneath the mound,
Lamenting lover’s thankless thirst,
And crewel deaths rueful hand.
No monument,
Or sable shrine mark here where she sleeps,
And yet I know a maiden cries,
Beneath the tearful heath.