4. By yon still river, where the wave
Is winding slow at evening's close,
And months went sadly on,--
The beech, upon a nameless grave,
and years:--
Its sadly-moving shadow throws.
And she was wasting day by day:
At length she died, -- and many
O'er the fair woods the sun looks
tears
down
Were shed, that she should pass
Upon the many-twinkling leaves,
away.
And twilight's mellow shades are
brown,
Then came a gray old man, and
Where darkly the green turf
knelt
upheaves.
With bitter weeping by her
tomb:--
The river glides in silence there,
And others mourned for him,
And hardly waves the sapling tree:
who felt
Sweet flowers are springing, and the
That he had sealed a daughter's
air
doom.
Is full of balm,-- but where is she!
The funeral train has long past
They bade her wed a son of pride,
on,
And leave the hope she cherished
And time wiped dry the father's
long:
tear!
She loved but one,-- and would not
Farewell -- lost maiden! --
