The Handkerchief

The sun was drowning in the ocean’s brim
Red, red as blood;
And in the crimson flood
A young girl sewed a handkerchief with gold,

Embroidering in gold with stitches fine—
(Like lilies white
Her cheeks will look to-night,
Like pure-white lilies washed with tears).

And as she sewed she pressed it to her heart.
Then, weeping sore,
She opened wide the door:
“Strong wind, my Eagle, take this on your wings!

“Strong as the Dunai ever onward flows,
O wind so free,
Deliver this for me
Where now he serves, yea, where the heart well knows.

“He in the Uhlans’ ranks is fighting now—
Go, Golden One,
From sun to sun,
Float on the wind until that place you find!

“And, Golden One, when you shall hear one call
Even as a dove,
Rest, for my love,
My loved one will be waiting here below.

“He has a bay horse, and his weapons are
Shining as gold.
Wind, free and bold,
Fall to his heart, as the rose petals fall.

“If sleeping, wake him not—and, O my God!
If slain he lie,
For your good-bye,
O Golden One, cover his sweet dead face.”