Artemisia [yearbook], 1904 . ^11 Just to meet the ranchers to see the valleys pet, Down beside the dreaming water,Down beside the calm Payette! How one night thtv rode together—(Was it fate, or was it chance?) Oer the mountain; oer the heather,To a distant village dance. How she met the handsome stranger-How her lover vainly tried To convince her of the danger She was in while at his side. How her vouthful heart was gladdened By the jealousy she wrought,Whileherlover watched her—maddened- In a soul consuming thought. How he passed at midnight from herOut into the silent night. Wh
Artemisia [yearbook], 1904 . ^11 Just to meet the ranchers to see the valleys pet, Down beside the dreaming water,Down beside the calm Payette! How one night thtv rode together—(Was it fate, or was it chance?) Oer the mountain; oer the heather,To a distant village dance. How she met the handsome stranger-How her lover vainly tried To convince her of the danger She was in while at his side. How her vouthful heart was gladdened By the jealousy she wrought,Whileherlover watched her—maddened- In a soul consuming thought. How he passed at midnight from herOut into the silent night. While the amber moon ot summerBathed him in its mellow Hght. How his broncho swiftly bore himOnward to the valley dim. How he paused, and, reaching oer his lasso to a limb. How upon the morn they found himSwinging ghastly to and tro— Wild syringas blooming round himAnd the river just below. They will tell how little Allie Mourned above his coffin lid —liow she wandered up the valleyIn the vesper shadows 134 fe How she paused upon the margentOf the silent, sleeping , like a flood of argent. Through the valleys tranquil dream. How she raised her arms above herWith a low resounding wail Heard the whisper of her loverIn the waters of the vale. How they found her on the morrow-Found her in the rivers bed^- Freed from every earthly , silent, cold and dead! Down beside the silent river, Down beside the cold Payette, In that sleep that lasts forever. Lies the valleys young coquette. She is sleeping—she has perished Where are now her artful Where the beauty that she her heart-alluring There are many who remember Her who sleeps within that tomb. And when winds in dark December Whistle through the wintry gloum. When the snow lies deep and hoaryAnd the river banks are pale They will tell the doleful storyOf Syringa of the Vale.
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, booksubjectunivers, bookyear1904
