For Heav’n the truth discloses,
The Baby, who had early died,
Bore, tinted on its little side,
Three spots—as red as roses!
Now, ere the wedding-day had past,
Stern Golfre, and his Bride
Walk’d forth to taste the ev’ning breeze
Soft sighing, mid the sombre trees,
That drest the mountain’s side.
And now, beneath the grove of Pine,