The Poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed With a Memoir by the Rev. Derwent Coleridge. Fourth Edition. In Two Volumes |
 |
 | The Poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed |  |
“A year is gone,”—the damsel sighed,
But blushed not, as she so replied,—
“Since one I loved,—alas! how well
He knew not, knows not,—left our dell.
Time brings to his deserted cot
No tidings of his after lot;
But his weal or woe is still the theme
Of my daily thought, and my nightly dream.
Poor Alice is not proud or coy;
But her heart is with her minstrel boy.”
But blushed not, as she so replied,—
“Since one I loved,—alas! how well
He knew not, knows not,—left our dell.
Time brings to his deserted cot
No tidings of his after lot;
But his weal or woe is still the theme
Of my daily thought, and my nightly dream.
Poor Alice is not proud or coy;
But her heart is with her minstrel boy.”
| The Poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed | |