LOVER’S GREEN.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume IX, Issue 6, 6 February 1892, Page 126

LOVER’S GREEN.

Prithee ! draw the curtains closer, For I would not see the snow ; It would chill me as I wander In that summer long ago, When I crowned myself with roses, And I trailed the silken sheen Of my purple robe behind me O’er the dews of Lover’s Green. Near at hand a thrush was trilling In his sober suit of brown, And afar I saw the windows Gleaming silver in the town. Sweet and salt the wind was blowing From the bay that Hashed between, " hen we met that golden morning On the dews of Lover’s Green. It was there my soldier lover, In his coat ot army blue, Knelt to tie the satin ribbon That was tiailing from my shoe. He was overlong about it, And I bent to look, 1 ween, So 1 kissed him ere 1 knew it ’Mid the dews of Lover’s Green. Oh 1 he caught me to his bosom, With the ribbon left untied, And the birds began to carol From the boughs on every side ; And the sun a little nearer In his glory seemed to lean, Till he turned to Hanring jewels All the dews of Lover’s Green. Though a hundred years, in passing, Strew my head with ashes grey, They can never steal the sweetness Of that single hour away. E'en the mist came down the mountains And the shadow rose between, And we parted, pale with anger, In the dews ot Lover’s Greeu. Still above that place enchanted Blue and tender bend the skies. Still the mountains, richly wooded. In their grandeur round it rise ; But the rosea now are paler. And the winds are cold and keen, And a woman’s tears are shining With the dews of Lover’s Green '. M.R