Anna and Harland

Within these wilds was Anna wont to rove

       &nbspWhile Harland told his love in many a sigh,

       &nbspBut stern on Harland roll'd her brother's eye,

They fought, they fell—her brother and her love!



To Death's dark house did grief-worn Anna haste,

       &nbspYet here her pensive ghost delights to stay;

       &nbspOft pouring on the winds the broken lay—

And hark, I hear her—'twas the passing blast.



I love to sit upon her tomb's dark grass,

       &nbspThen Memory backward rolls Time's shadowy tide;

       &nbspThe tales of other days before me glide:

With eager thought I seize them as they pass;

For fair, tho' faint, the forms of Memory gleam,

Like Heaven's bright beauteous bow reflected in the stream.