Classic Poem

Know I not who thou mayst be
Carved upon this olive-tree, —
" Manuela of La Torre, " —
For around on broken walls
Summer sun and spring rain falls,
And in vain the low wind calls
" Manuela of La Torre. "

Of that song no words remain
But the musical refrain, —
" Manuela of La Torre. "
Yet at night, when winds are still,
Tinkles on the distant hill
A guitar, and words that thrill
Tell to me the old, old story, —
Old when first thy charms were sung,
Old when these old walls were young,
" Manuela of La Torre. "