My Woodland Bride.

A poem by George Pope Morris

Here upon the mountain-side
Till now we met together;
Here I won my woodland bride,
In flush of summer weather.
Green was then the linden-bough,
This dear retreat that shaded;
Autumn winds are round me now,
And the leaves have faded.

She whose heart was all my own,
In this summer-bower,
With all pleasant things has flown,
Sunbeam, bird, and flower!
But her memory will stay
With me, though we're parted--
From the scene I turn away,
Lone and broken-hearted!