The pride of our village is pining away;
But yesterday married, and widowed to-day;
To the red field of death she has seen him depart,
The light of her eye and the joy of her heart.
To her mother she turneth, and falls on her knee —
Let me weep for him, mother, by the shores of the sea.

Since you told me, dear mother, in Life's happy morn,
How brief were its roses, how sharp was its thorn;
Since my heart was made captive by him that is gone, —
Ah! short was the sunlight that over it shone!
Since a captive I languish, and he bears the key,
Let me weep for him, mother, by the shores of the sea.

My eyes have, with weeping, been red since the dawn,
Their sweet occupation of seeing is gone:
Henceforward no gladness can bring them delight,
No vision of beauty can make them grow bright;
Since he is at war who was peace unto me,
Let me weep for him, mother, by the shores of the sea.

Oh! do not restrain me or blame me, dear mother,
For vain is the one, and useless the other.
If love for your daughter your bosom doth hold,
Oh! let not your actions be cruel and cold:
Since to perish in silence far sadder would be,
Let me weep for him, mother, by the shores of the sea.

Ah! mother, dear mother, that breast were of stone,
That would feel not the sorrow and grief I have known:
The languor that kills me since he has gone thither —
To see the green years of my womanhood wither.
Then since blossoms no longer will bloom on Life's tree,
Let me weep for him, mother, by the shores of the sea.