Parting.

And now they have parted to meet no more,
And you need not ask if their hearts were sore;
Their past life had been that of summer flowers,
Whose growth has been nourished by tender showers.

His father lived in a stately manor,
Her's had nothing to boast of but honour;
So parents' commands must needs be obeyed,
And the squire's son leave the poor village-maid.

When the gloaming gray stole over the west,
And the toil-worn peasant came home to rest,
They met in the vale 'neath the hawthorn shade,
To cancel the vows which once they had made.

They had met in the bloom of early youth,
And pledged to each other their faith and truth;
Yet better to sever the soul and mind,
Than sunder hearts the Creator hath joined.