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THE WILLOW TREES.
Sweet Emily! I see her, as in many a long past hour,
Brush back the hours as she would brush the dewdrop from a flower;
I well remember how my heart was won whene'er she smiled,
For she was a lovely woman then, and I a little child.
Brush back the hours as she would brush the dewdrop from a flower;
I well remember how my heart was won whene'er she smiled,
For she was a lovely woman then, and I a little child.
She, too, is gone! her voice no more will mingle with the stream,
Her eye no more add beauty to the rays that on it gleam;
Yet I know her heart, like mine, will swell, whene'er the evening breeze
Sighs, as it used to sigh amidst those weeping willow trees.
Her eye no more add beauty to the rays that on it gleam;
Yet I know her heart, like mine, will swell, whene'er the evening breeze
Sighs, as it used to sigh amidst those weeping willow trees.
