Wherefore your silver waters wend,
From glistening pools 'neath hair and brow,
O'er salt-rocked cheeks down to descend
In rivulets, to bend, to flow
Past crescent lips, downtrod, forlorn,
Till now was then, till night 'comes morn?
I weep for songs no voices sang,
I weep for blood-soaked fields,
Where hammers fell, steel on steel rang,
Where lay forgotten shields.
I weep for youth naively bent
To wrest a far off plain,
To suffer pangs of graves intent,
To ne'er come home again.
Wherefore the youth of yesteryear
In vain to wrest a far off plain
When flourished crops abounded near,
When maiden lips bore still their name?
Wherefore a far off plain be bought
With youth when youth so dearly sought?
In legends kindled round the hearth
Was youthful spirit born,
To furl the plough that tilled the earth,
To sound the battle horn,
And off to wrest a far off plain
From kindred sons as yore,
And thence to go e'er to remain
On some forgotten shore.
Wherefore the hearth-struck legends told
When youthful mirth abounds the fire?
Wherefore the songs wove bright as gold
To quicken youth with lusts desire?
Wherefore desire to wrest a plain
Won, lost, anon, won, lost again?
*From eyes where silver waters wend
To flourish seed as rain,
From withered heart where thoughts descend
To bring unending pain,
From hope and fear and love and hate
I'll sing an old refrain,
And youth will go unto its fate
On some forgotten plain.