Alexander Anderson

1845-1909 / Scotland


Ellen came out in the evening light
In all her youth and love,
With a face as bright and a step as light
As the angels are above.
The very moon in the starry skies
Flung down a sweeter smile,
As she stood with her softly-beaming eyes
Looking upward all the while.
Ellen! I said, for her lips were fraught
With the music I loved to hear;
And Ellen's voice was like whispers caught
In the night when none are near.
She spoke, and I bent to her low, sweet tone,
That was pure as her heart within;
And I dared not mingle or speak my own,
For fear it might be sin.
But clasp her this night by the finger tips,
And speak to her as you may,
Ellen will smile with thin, wan lips,
But not a word will say.
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