Upon some green and mossy bed,
While, stirred by the low, murmuring breeze,
The leaves made music overhead;
While on the gentle summer air
The birds poured forth their thrilling song,
Till every green leaf waving there
Seemed the sweet echoes to prolong.
She spoke to me of girlhood’s days,
When we had hopes unmixed with fears,
Ere we had learned the world’s cold ways,