poems.
83
"Lady, sing one of thy songs," he cried,
"A song about fond hopes that died;
I would love to have you sing to me
Those songs that echo o'er the lea."
"A song about fond hopes that died;
I would love to have you sing to me
Those songs that echo o'er the lea."
Sweet Evelyn lifted her lovely head:
"I cannot sing to a stranger," she said;
"My songs are mournful, tearful, and sad;
They would not make thy kind heart glad."
"I cannot sing to a stranger," she said;
"My songs are mournful, tearful, and sad;
They would not make thy kind heart glad."
The stranger gazed on her blushing cheek,
That brow so lovely, noble, and meek;
Then whispered adieu, and vanished away,
While sunbeams still danced in careless play.
That brow so lovely, noble, and meek;
Then whispered adieu, and vanished away,
While sunbeams still danced in careless play.
Yet still the days passed on; then came.
The howling winds, and sleet, and rain;
The summer faded, and autumn drew near,
While dropping nuts young hearts did cheer.
The howling winds, and sleet, and rain;
The summer faded, and autumn drew near,
While dropping nuts young hearts did cheer.
"Fair Evelyn" no longer sits at the stile,
Plying her needle all the while;
But her brown eyes wander with restless glance
To the stile where her gladsome feet did dance.
Plying her needle all the while;
But her brown eyes wander with restless glance
To the stile where her gladsome feet did dance.
