Classic Poem

Down by yon weeping willow,
Where flowers so sweetly bloom,
There sleeps the fair Florilla,
So silent in her tomb.

She died not broken-hearted,
Nor sickness e'er befell,
But in one moment parted
From all she loved so well.

One night the moon shone brightly,
And gentle zephyrs blew,
Up to her cottage lightly
Her treacherous lover drew.

He says, “Come let us wander,
In those dark woods we'll stray,
And there we'll sit and ponder
Upon our wedding-day.”

“Those woods look dark and dreary,
I am afraid to stray,
Of wandering I am weary,
So I'll retrace my way.”

“Those woods, those gently zephyrs,
Your feet no more will roam,
So bid adieu forever
To parents, friends, and home.”

Down on her knees before him
She begged for her life,
When deep into her bosom
He plunged that hateful knife.

“O William! I'll forgive you,”
Was her last dying breath,
Her pulses ceased their motion,
Her eyes were closed in death.

Down by yon weeping willow,
Where flowers so sweetly bloom,
There sleeps that fair Florilla,
So silent in her tomb.