Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=447590" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>She Sat Alone Beside Her Hearth</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">SHE sat alone beside her hearth— <br>For many nights alone;<br>She slept not on the pleasant couch<br>Where fragrant herbs were strewn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">At first she bound her raven hair<br>With feather and with shell;<br>But then she hoped; at length, like night,<br>Around her neck it fell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They saw her wandering mid the woods,<br>Lone, with rite cheerless dawn,<br>And then they said, 'Can this be her<br>We called 'The Startled Fawn?' '</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Her heart was in her large sad eyes,<br>Half sunshine and half shade;<br>And love, as love first springs to life,<br>Of every thing afraid.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The red leaf far more heavily<br>Fell down to autumn earth,<br>Than her light feet, which seemed to move<br>To music and to mirth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With the light feet of early youth,<br>What hopes and joys depart,<br>Ah! nothing like the heavy step<br>Betrays the heavy heart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is a usual history<br>That Indian girl could tell;<br>Fate sets apart one common doom<br>For all who love too well.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The proud—the shy—the sensitive,—<br>Life has not many such;<br>They dearly buy their happiness,<br>By feeling it too much.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A stranger to her forest home,<br>That fair young stranger came;<br>They raised for him the funeral song—<br>For him the funeral flame.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Love sprang from pity,—and her arms<br>Around his arms she threw;<br>She told her father, 'If he dies,<br>Your daughter dieth too.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For her sweet sake they set him free—<br>He lingered at her side;<br>And many a native song yet tells<br>Of that pale stranger's bride.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Two years have passed—how much two years<br>Have taken in their flight!<br>They've taken from the lip its smile,<br>And from the eye its light.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poor child! she was a child in years—<br>So timid and so young;<br>With what a fond and earnest faith<br>To desperate hope she clung!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His eyes grew cold—his voice grew strange—<br>They only grew more dear.<br>She served him meekly, anxiously,<br>With love—half faith—half fear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And can a fond and faithful heart<br>Be worthless in those eyes<br>For which it beats?—Ah! wo to those<br>Who such a heart despise.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poor child! what lonely days she passed,<br>With nothing to recall<br>But bitter taunts, and careless words,<br>And looks more cold than all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alas! for love, that sits at home,<br>Forsaken, and yet fond;<br>The grief that sits beside the hearth—<br>Life has no grief beyond.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He left her, but she followed him—<br>She thought he could not bear,<br>When she had left her home for him,<br>To look on her despair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Adown the strange and mighty stream<br>She took her lonely way;<br>The stars at night her pilots were,<br>As was the sun by day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet mournfully—how mournfully!—<br>The Indian looked behind,<br>When the last sound of voice or step<br>Died on the midnight wind,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet still adown the gloomy stream<br>She plied her weary oar;<br>Her husband—he had left their home,<br>And it was home no more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She found him—but she found in vain—<br>He spurned her from his side;<br>He said, her brow was all too dark,<br>For her to be his bride.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She grasped his hands,—her own were cold,—<br>And silent turned away,<br>As she had not a tear to shed,<br>And not a word to say.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And pale as death she reached her boat,<br>And guided it along;<br>With broken voice she strove to raise<br>A melancholy song.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">None watched the lonely Indian girl,—<br>She passed unmarked of all,<br>Until they saw her slight canoe<br>Approach the mighty Fall!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Upright, within that slender boat<br>They saw the pale girl stand,<br>Her dark hair streaming far behind—<br>Upraised her desperate hand.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The air is filled with shriek and shout—<br>They call, but call in vain;<br>The boat amid the waters dash'd—<br>'Twas never seen again!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Letitia+Elizabeth+Landon">Letitia Elizabeth Landon</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=447590" data-title="She Sat Alone Beside Her Hearth de Letitia Elizabeth Landon" data-description="SHE sat alone beside her hearth— 
For many nights alone;
She slept not on the pleasant couch
Where fragrant herbs were strewn.

At first she bound her raven hair
With feather and with shell;
But then she hoped; at length, like night,
Around her ..."></div>
</div>
</div>