Blossomed and ripened in woodland shade.
“Hope told a flattering tale,
She began to weep, and she began to wail,
Come in thy beauty, thou marvel of duty, sweet Annie of the vale.
“Roll on, thou dark and deep blue ocean, roll,
Nor lay that flattering unction to your soul;
And the distant bells softly toll, toll, toll.
“Hark, from the tombs a doleful sound;
The spot whereon thou stand’st is holy ground;