Читать книгу Beadle's Dime Song Book No. 1 - Various - Страница 1

Thou wilt come no more, gentle Annie —

Like a flower thy spirit did depart;

Thou art gone, alas! like the many,

That have bloom’d in the summer of my heart.

Shall we never more behold thee,

Never hear thy winning voice again,

When the spring time comes, gentle Annie,

When the wild flowers are scattered o’er the plain?

We have roam’d and loved ’mid the bowers,

When thy downy cheeks were in bloom;

Now I stand alone ’mid the flowers,

While they mingle their perfumes o’er thy tomb.

Ah! the hours grow sad while I ponder

Near the silent spot where thou art laid,

And my heart bows down when I wander

By the streams and the meadows where we stray’d.