Thomas Dunn English | Poem Lake

Ben Bolt

Don’t you remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt,—
    Sweet Alice whose hair was so brown,
Who wept with delight when you gave her a smile,
    And trembled with fear at your frown?
In the old church yard in the valley, Ben Bolt,
    In a corner obscure and alone...
Ben Bolt

Don’t you remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt,—
    Sweet Alice whose hair was so brown,
Who wept with delight when you gave her a smile,
    And trembled with fear at your frown?
In the old church-yard in the valley, Ben Bolt,
    In a corner obscure and alone...
Songs

Here from the brow of the hill I look,
    Through a lattice of boughs and leaves,
On the old gray mill with its gambrel roof,
    And the moss on its rotting eaves.
I hear the clatter that jars its walls,
    And the rushing water’s sound,
And I...