The Lass of Lovedale

Silver lined couds form a cluster,
veiling the moon, sans its lustre.
The cool breeze has a chilling tinge.
Dying embers smoulder and singe.

Owls hoot around, and a lone mongrel barks,
the black, one-eyed cat silently stalks.
The mist casts its shadow, here and there,
the eerie darkness is a bloody nightmare.

On nights like these, in the old birch trees,
the leaves rustle wildly, and the branches wheeze.
And there is a sudden shriek of fright,
which echoes shrilly through the silent night.

She was a lissome maiden, with a face - oh, so fair
matched with awesome locks of golden yellow hair.
Birds would sing in joy, and snails would barely crawl,
when this lass of Lovedale was out for a stroll.

It was then she saw the young man, mounting his steed,
only to gallop away, at a chivalrous speed.
For the lovely maiden, it was love at first sight.
She turned her head, only to see the dust of his flight.

Soon their love blossomed, like trees in the spring.
She gave him, for their love, her only diamond ring.
She told him the truth, she loved him more than life,
and he said he would take her for his wife.

Her father got the news, and seethed with rage,
he threw an ugly tantrum, and called for his page.
He roared, "Tonight, before I go to bed,
I want on a platter, his bones and his blood".

"Why?", she asked her father, but to no avail.
The servants and the butler, wouldn't tell the tale.
Through her loyal maid, she later got to know -
The knight was the only son, of her father's sworn foe.

In the dank dungeon, she had a restless sleep,
she had drained them all, no more tears to weep.
She ran into the woods, puffy cheeks and eyes red,
and near the birch trees, she found him dead.

She sat all day, right there amidst the trees,
shivering and chattering in the freezing winter breeze;
Then she fell dead, after a last shriek of fright,
which echoes, even today, through the silent night.

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