George Linley

| Saturday, April 16, 2011 | |

Oh, fondly on the past I dwell,
And oft recall those hours
When, wandering down the shady dell,
We gathered the wild-flowers.

Yes, life then seemed one pure delight,
Tho' now each spot looks drear;
Yet tho' thy smile be lost to sight,
To memory thou art dear.

Oft in the tranquil hour of night,
When stars illume the sky,
I gaze upon each orb of light,
And wish that thou wert by.




Thou art gone from my gaze like a beautiful dream.
And I seek thee in vain by the meadow and stream.

0 comments: