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George Pope Morris

(1802-1864 / USA)

My Woodland Bride.


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!

Submitted: Wednesday, October 06, 2010

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