ng—by aln strea
by aln strea i chanc&039;d to rove,
while phoeb sank beyond benledi;
the ds are whisperg thro&039; the grove,
the yellow rn was wavg ready:
i listen&039;d to a lover&039;s sang,
an&039; thought on youthfu&039; pleasures ony;
and aye the wild-wood echoes rang—
“o, dearly do i love thee, annie!
“o, happy be the woodbe bower,
nae nightly bogle ake it eerie;
nor ever rrow sta the hour,
the pce and ti i t y dearie!
her head upon y throbbg breast,
she, skg, said, &039;i&039; the for ever!&039;
while ony a kiss the seal iprest—
the sacred vow we ne&039;er should sever”
the haunt o&039; sprg&039;s the prirose-brae,
the sur joys the flocks to follow;
how cheery thro&039; her short&039;ng day,
is autun her weeds o&039; yellow;
but can they lt the glog heart,
or cha the ul speechless pleasure?
or thro&039; each nerve the rapture dart,
like etg her, our bo&039;s treasure?
草小说