Inured to their deepest woe and joy,
A happy maiden and careless boy;
Lured their feet to its inmost core,
Where like snowy maidens the aspen trees
Swayed and beckoned in the breeze,
While the prairie grass, like rippling seas,
Faintly murmuring lulling hymns,
Rippled about their gleaming limbs.
There is no such charm in a garden-close,
However fair its bower and rose,