104
THE RUINED ARBOUR.
The bard in his old age describes to Morvyth the desolation that reigns in the scene of their early love.
Maid of lily form and mien,
As the summer day serene,
(Much of thee my song has been!)
As I waited yester e’en
For thee, mid the woodland boughs,
Where we first exchanged our vows—
Struck with sadness and with awe,
I beheld the well-known scene,
Where I first, in leafy screen,
Heard thy voice—thy figure saw!
Pliant then, and fresh and young,
O’er our seat our arbour hung,
And the favourite birch-tree bent
O’er us, with its spray unrent—
Summer’s glory in its shoots,
Youthful stems around its roots—
Verdant temple, leafy roof!
Farm with cap of foliage crown’d,
Turret wove of curling woof,
Branches vigorous and round!
Where the woodland birds did pour
Their wild eloquence and lore!
