The Poetry Corner

The Sycamore Shade.

By George Pope Morris

I knew a sweet girl, with a bonny blue eye, Who was born in the shade The wild sycamore made, Where the brook sang its song All the summer-day long, And the moments went merrily by, Like the birdlings the moments flew by. I knew a fair maid, soul-enchanting in grace, Who replied to my vow, 'Neath the sycamore bough, "Like the brook to the sea, Oh, I yearn, love, for thee!" And she hid in my bosom her face-- In my bosom, her beautiful face. I have a dear wife, who is ever my guide! Wooed and won in the shade The wild sycamore made, Where the brook sings it song All the summer-day long, And the moments in harmony glide, Like our lives they in harmony glide.