Original Poetry.

Marlborough Express, Volume III, Issue 147, 5 December 1868, Page 6

Original Poetry.

THERE IN YON RUSTIC COT. There in yon rustic cot, o’er which the roses twine And cluster in profusion with the graceful vine, My lassie blooms so sweetly, a fair and lovely flower, A merry laughing Hebe, queen of all the bower. Pure as the forest lily, graceful as the fawn, Blithe as any songster that wakes the dewy morn, Happy in her innocence, nought knows she of care, Wishing not for worldly pomp, its vanity and glare. .To see her lovely face lit up with joyous glee, As gracefully she trips across the flowery lea, No step is half so blithsome, no laugh so sweet and low; She’s like a blushing seraph lit up with heavenly glow. When twilight shades steal softly, before the eve doth close, And borne upon the breeze is the perfume of the rose, We wander to yon spreading tree that’s girt with mossy seat, And listen to the murmur of waters low and sweet. There as we sit and listen to the night winds whispering sigh, And watch the summer moon just rising to the sky; Our hearts are filled with gladness, ah me ! ’tis such sweet bliss, As we breathe our loving vows and seal with holy kiss. Oh ! none there is like Ella, my own my promised wife, Beloved by all who know her, the joy of all my life, As pure in thought as angels are, she’s good as she is fair, A lovely child of nature, as fresh as morning air. D. Spring Creek, Nov. 18, 1868.