Classic Poem

Annette came through the meadows
Where daffodils did blow;
A bonnie maid, a winsome maid,
With hat all drooping low
O'er eyes of wistful candor;
Did ever timid swain
Look in their depths, their liquid depths,
And hope for peace again?

'Twas sunset on the meadows,
And down the leafy lane,
With tinkling, tinkling, mellow bells
That made a soft refrain,
The drowsy cows passed homeward;
While in the orchard green,
The robins trilled their gayest songs,
All earth was glad, I ween.

A youth came through the meadows,
The squire's son was he;
He saw the maiden's rosy blush,
And thought none fair as she.
“Which way, O sweetest damsel,
Go I to yonder town?”
Quoth he: She archly showed the path,
With hat all drooping down.

Beneath the broad brim gazed he
Into her shining eyes,
Then with true grace said: “Thanks, dear maid.”
And when the sunset skies
Grew dimmer, rode he forward,
Saying with gentle pain,
“Ah! what a bonnie, comely maid,
I'll ride that way again.”

Annette came through the meadows,
No unaccustomed thing;
And yet, and yet, what new, new song
Was it her heart did sing?
Was she the selfsame maiden?
Nay! not the one of yore,
For in that heart a siren note
Will ring forevermore.