And here the widow often comes to weep.
It is a lovely spot for those who think —
For close beside the forest-covered brink,
The placid river rolls its gentle waves,
And breezes fresh fan o’er the silent graves.
Oft here I have sat on a still summer day,
When lured from city life, and cares away;
And lost in contemplation here reclined,
And sought to calm the turbulence of mind.
The bright sun sparkling on the rippled wave,