27.12.2010, 17:34
ELLEN, - Or First Love and Death.
That summer dawn, to Love and Edwin dear,
Her sky-blue gown, her happy tears and smiles ;
And the broad harvests, stirring far and near,
And softly floating to the gates and stiles ;
The meadow-sweet and wild rose dew-besprent,
And her pure words of troth, where are they now ?
And the gay lark, that rose at once, and spent
His morning-music on her earliest vow ?
He treads the sodden grass with weary foot
At twilight, weeping for his promised bride :
The wind blows cold ; the corn has long been cut
And, three moons since, his ])iighted Ellen died !
But lo ! that glimmer in the watery rut !
It is a star—in Heaven, yet by his side.
That summer dawn, to Love and Edwin dear,
Her sky-blue gown, her happy tears and smiles ;
And the broad harvests, stirring far and near,
And softly floating to the gates and stiles ;
The meadow-sweet and wild rose dew-besprent,
And her pure words of troth, where are they now ?
And the gay lark, that rose at once, and spent
His morning-music on her earliest vow ?
He treads the sodden grass with weary foot
At twilight, weeping for his promised bride :
The wind blows cold ; the corn has long been cut
And, three moons since, his ])iighted Ellen died !
But lo ! that glimmer in the watery rut !
It is a star—in Heaven, yet by his side.