Page:Famous Single Poems (1924).djvu/173

 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 churchyard in the valley, Ben Bolt,
 * In a corner obscure and alone,

They have fitted a slab of the granite so gray,
 * And Alice lies under the stone.

Under the hickory tree, Ben Bolt,
 * Which stood at the foot of the hill,

Together we’ve lain in the noonday shade,
 * And listened to Appleton’s mill.

The mill-wheel has fallen to pieces, Ben Bolt,
 * The rafters have tumbled in,

And a quiet which crawls round the walls as you gaze
 * Has followed the olden din.

Do you mind of the cabin of logs, Ben Bolt,
 * At the edge of the pathless wood,

And the button-ball tree with its motley limbs,
 * Which nigh by the doorstep stood?