Come, come away, unto the silent grove

Come, come away, unto the silent grove,
And in this solitude
Indulge thy melancholy mood,
And weep for fruitless love:
Come, come and seek the cedar's shade;
Beneath its gloomy shadow laid,
List to the turtle's mournful lay,
That fills the solemn hush around,
Broke by this soft-lamenting sound,
Until it dies away.

There lie and let thy tears unceasing flow;
Indulge thy swelling grief,
Until thou find'st a sweet relief,
A balm for all thy woe;
For tears can soothe the anxious breast,
Compose affliction's throb to rest,
Instil a holy calm of peace,
A calm that lights a placid smile
Upon our lips, and bids awhile
Our melancholy cease.

Then rise and seek the brightly flowering field.
And, as you careless stray,
Hear the brisk songsters warbling gay,
And taste the joy they yield:
Then think no more of cruel love;
But let thy thoughts unfettered rove,
And o'er the landscape wander free;
And while thou feel'st relief from pain,
O, never, never think again
That Mary 's deaf to thee.

One evening, when the sky was blue,
When Spring was clad in greenest hue,
When gently fell the cooling dew,
I saw sweet Mary.

The roses bloomed upon her cheek,
Her sparkling eye, though bright, was meek,
'T was music, when I heard her speak.
Ah! dearest Mary.

Her forehead, white as drifted snow,
Was soft as downy plumes, that flow
Wide o'er the fields, when zephyrs blow.
Ah! dearest Mary.

Her look, the picture of her mind,
By every charm and grace refined,
To calmest musing seemed resigned.
Ah! dearest Mary.

She sung, — her sweetly soothing strain
Floated along the flowery plain,
So sweet, the robin sings in vain.
Ah! dearest Mary.

Her voice was still, — her hand she threw
Around her robe, and lightly flew,
Brushing the faintly glistening dew.
Ah! dearest Mary.

Entranced in bliss, I saw her fly,
Fair as the moon that gilds the sky,
Sailing enrobed in silver dye.
Ah! dearest Mary.

And when I laid me down to rest,
I saw her smile, in beauty drest,
And clasped her vision to my breast.
Ah! dearest Mary.

We roamed through cool and shady groves,
We told our pure, unsullied loves,
We kissed with hearts as true as doves'.
Ah! dearest Mary.

O may this vision ne'er depart,
But dwell for ever round my heart,
Untouched by disappointment's dart!
Ah! dearest Mary.

Then I, a cheerful, happy swain,
With her, a nymph, might rove the plain,
Nor ever, ever leave again
My dearest Mary.
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