 | The forest minstrel |  |
TO A LOCK OF HAIR.
Oh, bright brown curl!
Twining in silken rings, so soft and bright,
Thou bringst fond memories of a gentle girl,
Like passing spirits in a summer night.
Twining in silken rings, so soft and bright,
Thou bringst fond memories of a gentle girl,
Like passing spirits in a summer night.
Oh, she was fair,
My beautiful companion, all day long;
I loved her hazel eye, her shining hair,
And lips that breathed the incense of sweet song.
My beautiful companion, all day long;
I loved her hazel eye, her shining hair,
And lips that breathed the incense of sweet song.
Ay, now I see
The summer flush upon her cheeks of pearls,
As resting 'neath the old familiar tree,
She threw aside the rich dishevelled curls.
The summer flush upon her cheeks of pearls,
As resting 'neath the old familiar tree,
She threw aside the rich dishevelled curls.
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And then the breeze,
That kisses all the beautiful of earth,
Forgot its converse with the whispering trees,
And touched the living rings with tender mirth.
That kisses all the beautiful of earth,
Forgot its converse with the whispering trees,
And touched the living rings with tender mirth.
Full many a scene
Of childish happiness is present now,
The blossom'd orchard and the hillside green,
Where sweet wild jessamine bound the laurel bough.
Of childish happiness is present now,
The blossom'd orchard and the hillside green,
Where sweet wild jessamine bound the laurel bough.
The limpid brook,
In which we laved our little feet so oft,
While o'er our heads the willow branches shook,
'Neath feather'd bills, with love-notes wild and soft.
In which we laved our little feet so oft,
While o'er our heads the willow branches shook,
'Neath feather'd bills, with love-notes wild and soft.
The chamber neat,
Where my red cheek press'd hers so pure and fair,
And while her breathing made my slumber sweet,
Those dark curls mingled with my sunny hair.
Where my red cheek press'd hers so pure and fair,
And while her breathing made my slumber sweet,
Those dark curls mingled with my sunny hair.
Oh, precious curl!
Cherished memento of the blessed past,
How far from those dear scenes, and that fair girl,
Sever'd and rest alike our lot is cast!
Cherished memento of the blessed past,
How far from those dear scenes, and that fair girl,
Sever'd and rest alike our lot is cast!
Oh, never more
On her fair temple shalt thou rest again;
Alas! the weary years, in passing o'er,
Have bow'd that graceful head with care and pain.
On her fair temple shalt thou rest again;
Alas! the weary years, in passing o'er,
Have bow'd that graceful head with care and pain.
Thou wouldst not be
At home, amid the thin and white-streak'd hair,
Which now is comb'd so smooth and carefully,
And bound beneath such cap as widows wear.
At home, amid the thin and white-streak'd hair,
Which now is comb'd so smooth and carefully,
And bound beneath such cap as widows wear.
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Nor should I find
My home amid those scenes to memory dear,
For time, and change, and death, have all combined
To render all those places cold and drear.
My home amid those scenes to memory dear,
For time, and change, and death, have all combined
To render all those places cold and drear.
How desolate
Would be the weary lot of such as me,
Far from a blessed home, and doom'd by fate
To wrestle with a bitter destiny;
Would be the weary lot of such as me,
Far from a blessed home, and doom'd by fate
To wrestle with a bitter destiny;
But for the faith
That points us to a home beyond the tomb,
Where mildews never canker love's bright wreath,
And youth and purity for ever bloom.
That points us to a home beyond the tomb,
Where mildews never canker love's bright wreath,
And youth and purity for ever bloom.
A holy home,
Where those who sought the footprints of the Lord,
Along the paths of pain, and care, and gloom,
Shall find the rest of heaven a rich reward.
Where those who sought the footprints of the Lord,
Along the paths of pain, and care, and gloom,
Shall find the rest of heaven a rich reward.
| The forest minstrel | |