THE POPLAR TREES.
Around our lowly cottage[1]
The poplars threw their shade,
And I lov'd to hear at evening
The sounds the low winds made.
The poplars threw their shade,
And I lov'd to hear at evening
The sounds the low winds made.
Oh, gently rustling branches,
How oft at "stilly night"
I've listen'd to your music
By the summer moon's soft light!
How oft at "stilly night"
I've listen'd to your music
By the summer moon's soft light!
- ↑ Our house at Clarenceville, occupied in the summer of 1847.