Читать книгу Graham's Magazine, Vol. XLI, No. 5, November 1852 - Various - Страница 6

  Wild roses by the river grow,

    And lilies by the stream,

  And there I pulled the blossoms fair

    In young love’s happy dream.

  The lilies bent upon the stem

    In many a graceful twine,

  But lighter was the slender form

    Of her I dreamed was mine.

  The wilding-rose hath fairer hues

    Than other flowers have known,

  But lovelier tints were on the cheek

    Of her I called mine own.

  I pulled my love the wilding-rose,

    The lily-bell so frail,

  Sudden the flowers were scattered far,

    Reft by the envious gale.

  So from my life was reft away

    Love’s flower; I dwell alone,

  Far severed by relentless fate

    From her I called mine own.

  Still by the river blooms the rose,

    The lily by the stream,

  I pull no more the blossoms fair,

    Fled is love’s happy dream.