Poems (Brown)/Lady Evelyn's Wooing
LADY EVELYN'S WOOING.
On the border of the forest,
Where the bright-hued daisies rest,
Stands a little cottage neat,
Covered o'er with flowers sweet.
Where the bright-hued daisies rest,
Stands a little cottage neat,
Covered o'er with flowers sweet.
Creeping vines run o'er the roof,
Nestling there without reproof;
But the one inside the wall
Is the fairest flower of all.
Nestling there without reproof;
But the one inside the wall
Is the fairest flower of all.
Lady Evelyn, blithe and gay,
Singing sweetly all the day,
Is an orphan; but her face
Brings sunshine to that quiet place.
Singing sweetly all the day,
Is an orphan; but her face
Brings sunshine to that quiet place.
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Her hair is like rippling threads of gold,
And her maiden charms each day unfold;
Her hands are brown, yet fair to me,
Sweet Lady Evelyn, flower of the sea.
And her maiden charms each day unfold;
Her hands are brown, yet fair to me,
Sweet Lady Evelyn, flower of the sea.
One day in summer's golden hour,
When all that's gladsome feels her power,
A young man passed along that way,
Twirling a rose, bright crimson and gay.
When all that's gladsome feels her power,
A young man passed along that way,
Twirling a rose, bright crimson and gay.
He saw sweet Evelyn across the stile,
Plying her needle all the while;
He ventured near, and doffed his hat,
And soon commenced a friendly chat.
Plying her needle all the while;
He ventured near, and doffed his hat,
And soon commenced a friendly chat.
"Young maiden, why spend thine hours here,
When the songs of birds are blithe and clear?
Your tripping feet should be dancing still
Over the brow of yonder hill."
When the songs of birds are blithe and clear?
Your tripping feet should be dancing still
Over the brow of yonder hill."
Sweet Evelyn looked up with roguish smile,
Plying her needle all the while,—
"I dearly love to stay," she said,
"Where sunbeams are glancing overhead.
Plying her needle all the while,—
"I dearly love to stay," she said,
"Where sunbeams are glancing overhead.
"The forest is warm and gay, I see,
But its bright-hued leaves are dull to me;
My home is here, and here I trill
My plaintive song, like the whippoorwill."
But its bright-hued leaves are dull to me;
My home is here, and here I trill
My plaintive song, like the whippoorwill."
"Lady, sing one of thy songs," he cried,
"A song about fond hopes that died;
I would love to have you sing to me
Those songs that echo o'er the lea."
"A song about fond hopes that died;
I would love to have you sing to me
Those songs that echo o'er the lea."
Sweet Evelyn lifted her lovely head:
"I cannot sing to a stranger," she said;
"My songs are mournful, tearful, and sad;
They would not make thy kind heart glad."
"I cannot sing to a stranger," she said;
"My songs are mournful, tearful, and sad;
They would not make thy kind heart glad."
The stranger gazed on her blushing cheek,
That brow so lovely, noble, and meek;
Then whispered adieu, and vanished away,
While sunbeams still danced in careless play.
That brow so lovely, noble, and meek;
Then whispered adieu, and vanished away,
While sunbeams still danced in careless play.
Yet still the days passed on; then came.
The howling winds, and sleet, and rain;
The summer faded, and autumn drew near,
While dropping nuts young hearts did cheer.
The howling winds, and sleet, and rain;
The summer faded, and autumn drew near,
While dropping nuts young hearts did cheer.
"Fair Evelyn" no longer sits at the stile,
Plying her needle all the while;
But her brown eyes wander with restless glance
To the stile where her gladsome feet did dance.
Plying her needle all the while;
But her brown eyes wander with restless glance
To the stile where her gladsome feet did dance.
She missed the stranger's presence dear,
And his kindly-whispered words of cheer;
She missed the smiles that mantled his cheek,
And that noble brow, so calm and meek.
And his kindly-whispered words of cheer;
She missed the smiles that mantled his cheek,
And that noble brow, so calm and meek.
At last, one day, when all was still,
And nought was heard save the murmuring rill,
The stranger came across the moor,
And gently knocked at her lowly door.
And nought was heard save the murmuring rill,
The stranger came across the moor,
And gently knocked at her lowly door.
Then Evelyn's cheek grew sparkling and bright,
And her eyes beamed again with happy delight;
She welcomed the stranger, now doubly dear,
With a ringing laugh and voice so clear.
And her eyes beamed again with happy delight;
She welcomed the stranger, now doubly dear,
With a ringing laugh and voice so clear.
"I have come, sweet Evelyn," the young man cried,
"To ask you to be my cherished bride,
To ask you to choose, for your future lot,
My palace home, or this humble cot.
"To ask you to be my cherished bride,
To ask you to choose, for your future lot,
My palace home, or this humble cot.
"I will bring to you riches o'er land and sea,
If you will but pledge your faith to me;
I will bring to you raiment, costly and rare,
And pearls to twine 'mid your golden hair."
If you will but pledge your faith to me;
I will bring to you raiment, costly and rare,
And pearls to twine 'mid your golden hair."
Sweet Evelyn bowed her lovely head.
"I pledge myself to you," she said,
"To be your true and loving wife
Till death divide this earthly life."
"I pledge myself to you," she said,
"To be your true and loving wife
Till death divide this earthly life."
He fondly kissed her dewy cheek,
And uttered words both sweet and meek;
Then kneeling low on bended knee,
He pledged eternal constancy.
And uttered words both sweet and meek;
Then kneeling low on bended knee,
He pledged eternal constancy.
The months passed on; the summer came
Mingled with sunshine and with rain.
The check of Evelyn now grew thin;
But still she cherished love for him.
Mingled with sunshine and with rain.
The check of Evelyn now grew thin;
But still she cherished love for him.
The years roiled on, and o'er the moor
She watched for him who'd return no more;
The old moss cottage grew worn and gray,
While sunbeams danced in joyous play.
She watched for him who'd return no more;
The old moss cottage grew worn and gray,
While sunbeams danced in joyous play.
The villagers listed in vain for the song,
Borne on the air of evening along;
For Evelyn now was pale and weak,
And gone were the roses from her cheek.
Borne on the air of evening along;
For Evelyn now was pale and weak,
And gone were the roses from her cheek.
Years rolled on years; and sadly now
The green sod covers sweet Evelyn's brow;
The little cottage is empty and gray;
Type of things earthly—passing away.
The green sod covers sweet Evelyn's brow;
The little cottage is empty and gray;
Type of things earthly—passing away.
The children pass by, with reverent tread,
The graves of the quiet, sleeping dead;
But woe to the stranger's painful dart,
Which pierced and broke sweet Evelyn's heart.
The graves of the quiet, sleeping dead;
But woe to the stranger's painful dart,
Which pierced and broke sweet Evelyn's heart.