Thou'lt fly the greenwood shade.
'Tis night on lone Atlantic's deep,
And summer o'er that placid sea,
The stars watch Earth's scarce-breathing sleep—
Oh! she sleeps deeply—tenderly.
What figure o'er yon bluff that scowls,
Upon the smiling water?
Ah! whose that wild and freezing howl?
It is the forest's daughter.
One moment,—and the hollow moan