THE WILLOW TREES.
They stood beside the sunlit stream that murmured by the door,
How many a joyous melody its little voice would pour
As wild and most untamably dashed on its slender tide,
Clad in the garments of a song, were song personified.
How many a joyous melody its little voice would pour
As wild and most untamably dashed on its slender tide,
Clad in the garments of a song, were song personified.
It hurried in the sunshine, yet loitered in the shade,
Pausing to hear the music its own mirthfulness had made:
When boughs so thickly interlaced would scarce admit a breeze,
To whisper of their loveliness—those weeping willow trees!
Pausing to hear the music its own mirthfulness had made:
When boughs so thickly interlaced would scarce admit a breeze,
To whisper of their loveliness—those weeping willow trees!
Those two old weeping willows that look'd so sadly down,
As if they mourned a brilliant gem, stolen from the earth's fair crown;
Their slender branches dipping in the clear, transparent wave,
And scattering all the drops around, as if 'twere tears they gave.
As if they mourned a brilliant gem, stolen from the earth's fair crown;
Their slender branches dipping in the clear, transparent wave,
And scattering all the drops around, as if 'twere tears they gave.
I see them now, as I have seen, in many a day gone by,
Ere memory hid them in her heart, 'mongst treasured things to lie,
When life first found me on its shore, a thing of light and love,
With dear Virginia's soil beneath, Virginia's skies above.
Ere memory hid them in her heart, 'mongst treasured things to lie,
When life first found me on its shore, a thing of light and love,
With dear Virginia's soil beneath, Virginia's skies above.
I see them, and that gray old house that stood so meekly there,
Where an aged couple dwelt, whose brows were furrow'd o'er with care,
With a lovely grandchild by their side, whose bright and laughing eyes
Lit their declining years, as lights the sun the evening sky.
Where an aged couple dwelt, whose brows were furrow'd o'er with care,
With a lovely grandchild by their side, whose bright and laughing eyes
Lit their declining years, as lights the sun the evening sky.
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.