- Around her was a fairy scene
- A wilderness of flowers,
- Where slowly deepened day's soft hues
- As came the twilight hours.
- The beech-tree's brown and gnarled stem
- A rustic sear had made;
- Its swaying foliage lightly east
- A soft and emerald shade.
- They wove for her a dewy wreath
- Of buds and blossoms bright,
- To crown her, at the festival,
- Their radiant queen that night:
- The maidens hear her mandolin,
- As lily bells they twine;
- And softly whisper, " Isadore,
- What heart as light as thine ?"
- But when they stole, with noiseless steps,
- Across the shaded lawn,
- The joyous melody was hushed,
- The merry smiles were gone;
- And tears had dimmed those lustrous eyes
- From which the smiles had fled,
- As closer to the sheltering tree
- She leaned her drooping head.
- The perfume of a favorite dower,
- A song of by-gone days,
- Recalled a voice whose lightest word
- Was worth all other praise.
- 'Twas thus the smiles gave place to tears,
- Though none her secret guessed,
- Or knew whence came the quivering sigh
- Her trembling lips repressed
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