[Editor: This poem by Henry Kendall was published in Poems and Songs (1862).]
Ulmarra.
Alone — alone !
With a heart like a stone,
She maketh her moan
At the feet of the trees,
With her face on her knees,
And her hair streaming over ;
Wildly, and wildly, and wildly ;
For she misses the tracks of her lover !
Do you hear her, Ulmarra ?
Oh ! where are the tracks of her lover ?
Go by — go by !
They have told her a lie,
Who said he was nigh,
In the white-cedar glen —
In the camps of his men :
And she sitteth there weeping —
Weeping, and weeping, and weeping,
For the face of a warrior sleeping !
Do you hear her, Ulmarra ?
Oh ! where is her warrior sleeping?
A dream ! a dream !
That they saw a bright gleam
Through the dusk boughs stream,
Where wild bees dwell,
And a tomahawk fell,
In moons which have faded ;
Faded, and faded, and faded,
From woods where a chieftain lies shaded !
Do you hear her, Ulmarra ?
Oh ! where doth her chieftain lie shaded ?
Bewail ! bewail !
Who whispered a tale,
That they heard on the gale,
Through the dark and the cold,
The voice of the bold ;
And a boomerang flying ;
Flying, and flying, and flying ?
Ah ! her heart it is wasted with crying —
Do you hear her, Ulmarra ?
Oh ! her heart it is wasted with crying !
Source:
Henry Kendall, Poems and Songs, J. R. Clarke, Sydney, 1862, pages 84-85
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