Poem by Augusta Webster

Yu-Pe-Ya’s Dirge for Tse-Ky

Dead, my beloved! This small purple weed
    That grows upon thy grave shall have its time
To ripen and to wane, to bloom and seed;
But thou, strong doer, mightst not wait thy deed,
But thou, oh noblest, mightst not wait thy meed:
    Dead in thy prime!

Gone, my beloved! I that held thine hand
    Left sudden in a joyless waste alone!
I tossing on life's sea, and thou to stand
Hidden in the shadows of the silent strand.
Thou seeing me from where I may not land!
    Gone from me, gone!

Sleep well: but what for me who still must wake?
    Dream joys: but what for me who can but weep?
Oh darkened days where never dawn shall break!
Oh weary troth-plight I with sorrow make!
But thou, rest peaceful; care not for my sake.
    Dear, sleep thy sleep.

1. She Has Made Me Wayside Posies
2. Betrothed
3. The Swallows
4. Young Laughters, and My Music!
5. 'Tis Hard

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