HE WOO’D ME AT THE FOUNTAIN.

———

BY A. M’MAKIN.

———

He woo’d me at the fountain,

When the moon shone bright above,

And with the murmuring of the stream,

He pledged his vows of love.

I bade him to my father hie,

The pleasing tale to tell,

Then seek again the fountain sheen,

Down in the sylvan dell.

He woo’d me in the bower,

When the songsters fill’d the grove,

And with the dove’s soft tones he sigh’d

His ardent tale of love.

I bade him seek my mother’s side,

Her blessing first to win,

Then claim me for his chosen bride,

The trelliced bower within.

He woo’d me at the festal,

Where music reigned supreme,

And ’mid the revel wild and light

He breath’d his chosen theme;

Yet all unbless’d I could not yield

To man the heart’s rich mine,

Or falsely dash the holy light

From filial duty’s shrine.

At length ’twas at the altar,

’Neath the organ’s pealing sound,

He sought again my trembling hand,

While friends were smiling round;

No more I bade him others seek,

Or waved him from my side:

With blushes mantling o’er my cheek,

I knelt his happy bride.