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While I was walking down the road,
I met a maiden fair,
With eyes cast down, and visage drear,
And tattered ribbons in her hair.
“What ho, fair lass, is life amiss?
“What hath befallen thee?”
“Methinks I must not tell, good sir.
“Forsooth, I am undone,” said she.
She hurried past but said no more,
Yet stirring my concern
That such a troubled girl might need
A caring friend to whom to turn.
I did not know her name or home,
Nor whence she might have come,
Nor what her wants or needs might be,
Nor what she might be fleeing from.
I halted as I watched her go
And stood awhile in thought.
Had someone done great wrong to her,
Or had she not done as she ought?
Alas, my wish to render help
Went unfulfilled that day.
A fortnight hence, I learned that she
Had perished in the roiling bay.
They found her near the rocky shore
Upturned unto the sky.
They said that she had been with child,
But no one came to say goodbye.
That maiden, I shall ne’er forget
And shall not be afraid
To act upon a heartfelt need
To offer counsel, solace, aid. |