By the osiers so dank, As we sat on the bank, And look'd at the swell of the billow, This chaplet he wove As a token of love; Alas! 't was the branch of the willow. How sad all the day Through the meadows I stray, And rest flies at night from my pillow! The garland I wore From my ringlets I tore, Alas! must I wear the green willow? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTENTMENT, AFTER THE MANNER OF HORACE by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY THE WIDOW AT WINDSOR by RUDYARD KIPLING THE LAKE (VERSION 2) by EDGAR ALLAN POE LOVE AND TIME by WALTER RALEIGH ON NANUS COUNTED ON AN ANT by DECIMUS MAGNUS AUSONIUS VERSES TO THE MEMORY OF MARY FLETCHER by BERNARD BARTON |