The Mournful One

Every heart with pain is smitten
When they see the stripling pale,
Who upon his face bears written
Grief and sorrow’s mournful tale.

Breezes with compassion lightly
Fan his burning brow the while,
And his bosom many a sprightly
Damsel fair would fain beguile.

From the city’s ceaseless bustle
To the wood for peace he flies.
Merrily the leaves there rustle,
Merrier still the bird’s songs rise.

But the merry song soon ceases,
Sadly rustle leaf and tree,
When he, while his grief increases,
Nears the forest mournfully.