poems.
81
LADY EVELYN'S WOOING.
On the border of the forest,
Where the bright-hued daisies rest,
Stands a little cottage neat,
Covered o'er with flowers sweet.
Where the bright-hued daisies rest,
Stands a little cottage neat,
Covered o'er with flowers sweet.
Creeping vines run o'er the roof,
Nestling there without reproof;
But the one inside the wall
Is the fairest flower of all.
Nestling there without reproof;
But the one inside the wall
Is the fairest flower of all.
Lady Evelyn, blithe and gay,
Singing sweetly all the day,
Is an orphan; but her face
Brings sunshine to that quiet place.
Singing sweetly all the day,
Is an orphan; but her face
Brings sunshine to that quiet place.
****
Her hair is like rippling threads of gold,
And her maiden charms each day unfold;
Her hands are brown, yet fair to me,
Sweet Lady Evelyn, flower of the sea.
And her maiden charms each day unfold;
Her hands are brown, yet fair to me,
Sweet Lady Evelyn, flower of the sea.
