"Oh wherefore? wherefore? tell me why
"Does she repeat that doleful cry?"


IX.

I cannot tell; I wish I could;
For the true reason no one knows,
But if you'd gladly view the spot,
The spot to which she goes;
The heap that's like an infant's grave,
The pond--and thorn, so old and grey,
Pass by her door--'tis seldom shut--
And if you see her in her hut,
Then to the spot away!--
I never heard of such as dare
Approach the spot when she is there.


X.

"But wherefore to the mountain-top
"Can this unhappy woman go,
"Whatever star is in the skies,
"Whatever wind may blow?"
Nay rack your brain--'tis all in vain,
I'll tell you every thing I know;
But to the thorn, and to the pond
Which is a little step beyond,
I wish that you would go: