 | [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
THE EMIGRANTS.
Don't you remember how oft you have said,
Darling Coralin May,
“When the hawthorns are blossoming we shall wed,
And then to the prairie away!”
And now, all over the hills they peep,
Milkwhite, out of the spray,
And sadly you turn to the past and weep,
Darling Coralin May.
Darling Coralin May,
“When the hawthorns are blossoming we shall wed,
And then to the prairie away!”
And now, all over the hills they peep,
Milkwhite, out of the spray,
And sadly you turn to the past and weep,
Darling Coralin May.
When the cricket chirped in the hickory blaze,
You cheerily sung, you know,—
“Oh for the sunnier summer days,
And the time when we shall go!”
The corn-blades now are unfolding bright,
While busily calls the crow;
And clovers are opening red and white,
And the time has come to go—
You cheerily sung, you know,—
“Oh for the sunnier summer days,
And the time when we shall go!”
The corn-blades now are unfolding bright,
While busily calls the crow;
And clovers are opening red and white,
And the time has come to go—
To go to the cabin our love has planned,
On the prairie green and gay,
In the blushing light of the sunset land,
Darling Coralin May.
“How happy our lives will be,” you said,
Don't you remember the day?
“When our hands shall be, as our hearts are, wed!”
Darling Coralin May.
On the prairie green and gay,
In the blushing light of the sunset land,
Darling Coralin May.
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Don't you remember the day?
“When our hands shall be, as our hearts are, wed!”
Darling Coralin May.
“How sweet,” you said, “when my work is o'er,
And your axe yet ringing clear,
To sit and watch at the lowly door
Of our home in the prairie, dear.”
The rose is ripe by the window now,
And the cool spring flowing near;
But shadows fall on the heart and brow
From the home we are leaving here.
And your axe yet ringing clear,
To sit and watch at the lowly door
Of our home in the prairie, dear.”
The rose is ripe by the window now,
And the cool spring flowing near;
But shadows fall on the heart and brow
From the home we are leaving here.
| [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |