# Pocahontas and Other Poems (New York)/The Desolate Cottage

THE DESOLATE COTTAGE.
There stands a cottage on the Owlbar Moor, Just where its heathery blackness melts away To England's mellower green. Fast by its side Nestled the wheat-stack, firmly bound and shaped Even like another roof-tree, witnessing Fair harvest and good husbandry. Some sheep Roam'd eastward o'er the common, nibbling close The scanty blade, while towards the setting sun A hillock stretch'd, o'ershadow'd by a growth Of newly-planted trees. 'Twould seem the abode Of rural plenty and content. Yet here A desolate sorrow dwelt, such as doth wring Plain honest hearts, when what had long been twined With every fibre is dissected out.
 Beneath the shelter of those lowly eaves An only daughter made the parents glad With her unfolding beauties. Day by day She gather'd sweetness on her lonely stem, The lily of the moorlands. They, with thoughts Upon their humble tasks, how best to save Their little gain, or make that little more, Scarce knew that she was beautiful, yet felt Strange thrall upon their spirits when she spoke So musical, or from some storied page Beguiled their evening hour.
And when the sire Descanted long, as farmers sometimes will, About the promise of his crops, and how The neighbours envied that his corn should be Higher than theirs, and how the man that hoped Surely to thrive must leave his bed betimes, Or of her golden cheese the mother told, She with a filial and serene regard Would seem to listen, her young heart away Mid other things. For in her lonely room She had companions that they knew not of— Books that reveal the sources of the soul, Deep meditations, high imaginings— And ofttimes, when the cottage lamp was out, She sat communing with them, while the moon Look'd through her narrow casement fitfully. Hence grew her brow so spiritual, and her cheek Pale with the purity of thought, that gleam'd Around her from above.  The buxom youth, Nursed at the ploughshare, wondering eyed her charms, Or of her aspen gracefulness of form Spoke slightingly. Yet when they saw the fields Her father till'd, well clad with ripening grain, And knew he had no other heir beside, They with unwonted wealth of Sunday clothes, And huge red nosegays flaunting in their hands, Were fain to woo her. And they marvell'd much How the sweet fairy, with such quiet air Of mild indifference, and with truthful words Kind, yet determinate, withdrew herself To chosen solitude, intent to keep A maiden's freedom.
But in lonely walks, What time the early violets richly blent Their trembling colours with the vernal green, A student boy, who dwelt among the hills, Taught her of love. There rose an ancient tree, The glory of their rustic garden's bound, Around whose rough circumference of trunk A garden seat was wreathed; and there they sat, Watching gray-vested twilight, as she bore Such gifts of tender and half-utter'd thought As lovers prize. When the thin-blossom'd furze Gave out its autumn-sweetness, and the walls Of that low cot with the red-berried ash Kindled in pride, they parted; he to toil Amid his college tasks, and she to weep. —The precious scrolls, that with his ardent heart So faithfully were tinged, unceasing sought Her hand, and o'er their varied lines to pore Amid his absence, was her chief delight.
—At length they came not. She with sleepless eye, And lip that every morn more bloodless grew, Demanded them in vain. And then the tongue Of a hoarse gossip told her he was dead— Drowned in the deep, and dead.  Her young heart died Away at these dread sounds. Her upraised eye Grew large and wild, and never closed again. "Hark! Hark! He calleth! I must hence away!" She murmur'd oft, but faint and fainter still. Nor other word she spake. And so she died.
—And now that cottage on the Owlbar Moor Hath no sweet visitant of earthly hope To cheer its toiling inmates. Habit-led, They sow and reap, and spread the humble board, But steep their bread in tears.  God grant them grace To take his chastisement, like those who gain A more enduring substance from the blast That leaveth house and heart so desolate.