The Maiden of Sorrow

Maiden of Sorrow
The maiden in the portrait,
Whose face one could not forget.
Her mind was lost in memories
And pain of some regret.
The moon rose in the night’s sky
Pale moonbeams touched the lake.
The solemn bride thought sadly
Of a groom who will never wake.
The minstrel says she met him
At a special rendezvous place.
Her cloak kept curious eyes from seeing
The beauty’s tryst of disgrace.
Their faint confessions of passion
Would lead to a wedded state.
Their families finally gave a blessing.
To a couple, who knew not their fate
His illness was one of many people
His bride tried sage in his daily tea.
He closed his eyes seeing her beauty
And was buried with honor, immediately.
The portrait which hung unfinished
Was surrounded with a black silk cord.
The maiden withdrew to a convent
And wrote hymns to her newfound Lord.