 | The Harvest |  |
ANNA's SONG.
Once free in heart I rov'd the plain,
Nor minded flow'rs of beauty blooming;
I careless wak'd the past'ral strain,
And thought not—knew not what was coming.
But love at last hath caught my heart;
I feel, what once did ne'er alarm me;
And she who causes all my smart,
Is the fairest Flower that blooms in Armley!
Nor minded flow'rs of beauty blooming;
I careless wak'd the past'ral strain,
And thought not—knew not what was coming.
But love at last hath caught my heart;
I feel, what once did ne'er alarm me;
And she who causes all my smart,
Is the fairest Flower that blooms in Armley!
Though sweet the lowly daisy blows,
And sweet the heath-flow'r on the mountain;
Though sweet the blooms the wild-brier shows,
And blue-bell by the chrystal fountain;
Yet sweeter far the garden's pride,
The Rose, supremely does it charm me:
So shines my love o'er all beside,
The fairest Flower that blooms in Armley!
And sweet the heath-flow'r on the mountain;
Though sweet the blooms the wild-brier shows,
And blue-bell by the chrystal fountain;
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The Rose, supremely does it charm me:
So shines my love o'er all beside,
The fairest Flower that blooms in Armley!
In cold Misfortune's stormy vale,
Through life, alas! I'm doom'd to wander;
Not love itself should e'er prevail
To bid the fair resign her grandeur.
But were I king of nations wide,
Did all the sex aspire to charm me;
I'd, raptur'd, stoop from all the pride,
And bless the Flower that blooms in Armley!
Through life, alas! I'm doom'd to wander;
Not love itself should e'er prevail
To bid the fair resign her grandeur.
But were I king of nations wide,
Did all the sex aspire to charm me;
I'd, raptur'd, stoop from all the pride,
And bless the Flower that blooms in Armley!
Her mellow voice so sweetly rung,
So sweet they deem'd the lay she sung,
With one accord applause they roar,
And beg another from her store.
The fair obey'd, and, to the throng,
Thus gave Sylvander's farewell song,
When, leaving Aire's soft banks, again
He sought his much-lov'd native plain.
So sweet they deem'd the lay she sung,
With one accord applause they roar,
And beg another from her store.
The fair obey'd, and, to the throng,
Thus gave Sylvander's farewell song,
When, leaving Aire's soft banks, again
He sought his much-lov'd native plain.
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