Believe each pleasant muttered vow
She makes to thee, and see with ease
Each promised heaven before thee now;
I only think, if one of these
Should fail thee—O thou wouldst need then
To come away right far from men,
And weep beneath the willow trees.
And, therefore, have I made this place,
Where thou shouldst come on that hard day,
Full of a sad and weary grace;
For here the drear wind hath its way
With grass, and flowers, and withered tree—
As sorrow shall that day with thee,
If it should happen as I say.
And, therefore, have I kept the ground,
As 'twere quite holy, year by year;
The great wind lowers to a sound
Of sighing as it passes near;
And seldom doth a man intrude
Upon the hallowed solitude,
And never but to shed a tear.
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