A Troubled Girl

An old one I found, but not old enough for the Nostalgia posts. This was written aged 15, in a style I only tried once.

‘When did you come to me?

Your ashen face says clearly,

You are afraid;

Of what dear child?

Will you not speak of the troubles that you keep?’

‘Nay’, says she to I

‘As knowledge of the heart is to the sky,

I cannot say;

Ask me no more,

I will not speak of these troubles that I keep.’

‘Dear child will you stay with me?

Your tired body is sad to see,

I have a bed;

Where you may rest your head,

And tell me of the troubles that you keep’

‘Nay,’ once more says she to I,

‘I think it only natural for you to try,

I will not say;

But will you let me stay?

I need to hide these troubles that I keep.’

I sent her on her way that night,

The things she hid never saw the light,

They cannot now;

For I cast her out, and how,

For never knowing those troubles that she keeps.

________________________________________

For she keeps them still,

Though never know will I,

Through her spirit they may at last reach the sky,

But thanks to me that girl did die.

I made her leave, and soon

She was caught and under light of moon,

Was killed, I never shall know why,

But I saw them drag her body by.

And I lie awake and weep,

By my hand no-one shall ever know

Of the troubles that this girl did keep.