The fairest of our village maids,
  Was blue-eyed Lilly May;
Her brow was decked with golden curls,
  Her laugh was wild and gay: 
And spotless as a ray of heaven,
  Young love within her lay.

The rose which decked the fairy vale,
  Near by our rural town,
Showed not a deeper tint of blood,
  Than dyed her cheeks of down,
And innocence like that of heaven,
  Her fair, young head did crown.

Oh Lilly May!  Oh!  Lilly May! 
  My heart was all thine own,
Earth ne’er gave me a sweeter sound,
  Than thy low, loving tone;
For we each other’s first loves were,
  And each heard each alone!

Oh Lilly May!  I curse the day
  That tempted me to part! 
And ever haunting, strange regret
  To my sad soul thou art;
I fear that I have deeply sinned,
  And broken thy true heart.

TO ELEANOR.

When Hesper shows his rosiate lamp of love,
  High in yon lofty arch of dewy blue;
When gentle dews distilling from above,
  Sparkle upon the spreading grass and groves of yew—­
When sinks to rest the faintly murmuring breeze,
  And dim and indistinct the landscape view—­
Lonely I stray among the poplar trees
  And muse, dear Eleanor, dear love, on you.

When Luna looks upon yon mountains brown,
  And gilds the winding stream with silvery hue,
And Silence, like a fall of whitest down,
  Falls where the sylphs their elfin dance renew
In lonely glens and cliffs of ivy green;
  And human forms lie bathed in sleep’s soft dew—­
Silent I stray along the fairy scene,
  And muse, dear Eleanor, dear love, on you.

When golden streaks along the East appear,
  Spreading and flashing o’er that sea of blue;
And springs at length with aspect bright and clear,
  Great Sol upon the glittering world of dew—­
The wakened Hours commence their wonted race,
  And Nature strikes her living harp anew—­
Smiling I scan Creation’s glorious face,
  And muse, dear Eleanor, dear love, on you.

THE VOW OF LOVE.

’Twas evening’s hour of magic power,
  The sun went brightly down,
And shadows fell as with a spell,
  Along the mountains brown.

On high the sky, with gorgeous dye,
  Then glittered bright and wide,
And westward far, the evening star,
  Came trembling like a bride.

The birds did chime their drowsy rhyme,
  As day was getting o’er,
The rippling wave, did sweetly lave
  The winding, pebbly shore.

There walked beside that crystal tide,
  Fair Holston’s lovely stream,
My lady bright, at soft twilight,
  In beauty’s matchless gleam.

And I did walk and softly talk
  Unto her beauty there,
And deemed that she more fair must be,
  Than Goddess, wrought of air.