Classic Poem

Ellen, my heart is not yet thine,
And still I can but sigh,
Whene'er I view thy semblance shine
In Memory's mirror nigh.

Thy brow so soft--thy cheek so fair--
Thy looks so sweetly mild--
Thy angel air--thy angel smile,
My spirit have beguiled.

Ellen, my heart is not yet thine,
But oft my fancy dreams--
When evening's peaceful shades decline
Along our mountain streams.

Yes! oft my tranced fancy sees,
Mid evening's deepening shade,
Thy airy form--and, in the breeze,
Thy voice I hear, sweet maid!

Oh! Ellen! may yon heavens smile,
On thee, their beauteous birth,
And with the loveliest joys beguile
Thy path amid the earth.