The Poetry Corner

My Woodland Bride.

By George Pope Morris

Here upon the mountain-side Till now we met together; Here I won my woodland bride, In flush of summer weather. Green was then the linden-bough, This dear retreat that shaded; Autumn winds are round me now, And the leaves have faded. She whose heart was all my own, In this summer-bower, With all pleasant things has flown, Sunbeam, bird, and flower! But her memory will stay With me, though we're parted-- From the scene I turn away, Lone and broken-hearted!