Page:Poems Douglas.djvu/158

Well might young Edward, as his eye
 Dwelt fondly on his beauteous bride,
Exclaim, in his soul's ecstacy,
 "Of Erin's maids she is the pride!
My Nora, dear, this life's a dream,
 One happy, sunny dream about thee;
To me this dear green isle would seem
 A barren wilderness without thee!"

But where has her young husband flown?
 Why sit the guests so silent there?
The shades of night have stolen on,
 And yet is his a vacant chair.
Pale is the cheek of that young bride,
 The smile from her sweet lip is fled;
Her bridal wreath is flung aside,
 And droop'd in agony her head.

Had he deserted her? ah, no!
 His was a heart could know no change;
His was a love whose fervent glow
 Time could not quench; and yet how strange,
That he had smiling left her side,
 And bounded through a fragrant dell
To gather, for his lovely bride,
 Her fav'rite rose and heather bell.

He promised, with his fondest smile,
 Soon to rejoin them in the grove,
She saw him cross the grassy stile—
 But he returns not to his love