Page:New minstrel.pdf/3



all my fancy painted her,

She's lovely, she's divine;

But her heart it is another's,

She never can be mine.

Yet loved I as man never loved,

A love without decay;-

Oh! my heart—my heart is breaking

For the love of Alice Gray.

Her dark brown hair is braided o'er

A brow of spotless white;

Her soft blue eye now languishes—

Now flashes with delight;

The hair is braided not for me,

The eye is turned away;

Yet my heart—my heart is breaking

For the love of Alice Gray.

I've sunk beneath the summer's sun,

And trembled in the blast;

But my pilgrimage is nearly done,

The weary conflict's past.

And when the green sod wraps my grave,

May pity haply say,

"Oh ! his heart—his heart was broken

For the love of Alice Gray!"