The Sycamore Shade.

A poem by George Pope Morris

I knew a sweet girl, with a bonny blue eye,
Who was born in the shade
The wild sycamore made,
Where the brook sang its song
All the summer-day long,
And the moments went merrily by,
Like the birdlings the moments flew by.

I knew a fair maid, soul-enchanting in grace,
Who replied to my vow,
'Neath the sycamore bough,
"Like the brook to the sea,
Oh, I yearn, love, for thee!"
And she hid in my bosom her face--
In my bosom, her beautiful face.

I have a dear wife, who is ever my guide!
Wooed and won in the shade
The wild sycamore made,
Where the brook sings it song
All the summer-day long,
And the moments in harmony glide,
Like our lives they in harmony glide.