A GREY cross stands beneath yon old beech-tree; It marks a soldier's and a maiden's grave: Around it is a grove of orange-trees, With silver blossoms and with golden fruit. It was a Spaniard, whom he saved from death, Raised that cross o'er the gallant Englishman. He left home a young soldier, full of hope And enterprise! -- he fell in his first field! There came a lovely pilgrim to his tomb, The blue-eyed girl, his own betrothed bride, -- Pale, delicate, -- one looking as the gale That bow'd the rose could sweep her from the earth Yet she had left her home, where every look Had been watch'd, oh, so tenderly! -- and miles, Long weary miles, had wander'd. When she came To the dim shadow of the aged beech, She was worn to a shadow; colourless The cheek once dyed by her own mountain-rose. She reach'd the grave, and died upon the sod! They laid her by her lover: -- and her tale Is often on the songs that the guitar Echoes in the lime valleys of Castile! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PENT by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TUNK (A LECTURE ON MODERN EDUCATION) by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON CRADLE SONG (TO A TUNE OF BLAKE'S): 2 by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE SONG ON THE WATER (2) by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |