The Lonely Girl's Charm

As I skipped down the country road,
I met a young girl, her head bowed.
Neither out of silent respect,
nor giving in to the breeze,
But as if a huge weight weighed,
putting her out of ease.
So stunned me this sight, my bundle of flowers dropped.
Shaken out of her reverie, the pretty girl too stopped.

To recover my flowers, she immediately bent,
as I watched the colours nature had lent.
Her skin fair and her hair black,
And her eyes, I felt, would never sparkle lack.
When she stood up and I through words began to stumble,
I noticed that though her eyes were bright, they lacked sparkle.

When hesitantly, the reason for trouble, I enquired,
I saw that she shivered, though it was sunny quite.
When I began to apologise, out of alarm,
she whispered "loneliness has me in her charm"
continued her words, "like a lowly fiend,"
said she, "have I been deserted by a friend"
"Neither do I sleep, nor see pleasant dreams,
nor does gaiety and laughter bubble, like yonder stream."
Elaborate she would not, nor anything more would she tell
yet I glimpsed in her silent but expressive face, her hell.

Patting her shoulder, like an actress in a mime,
silently my eyes expressed "Give it some time."
Her gratitude she expressed in a manner silent
She proceeded her way and I mine, no longer jubilant.

Now at home, in front of me, her head still bowed
In the looking glass, is the young pretty girl of yonder country road.