Franklin Benjamin Sanborn (1831–1917)

COME to the river’s reedy shore,

My maiden, while the skies,

With blushes fit to grace thy cheek,

Wait for the sun’s uprise:

There, dancing on the rippling wave,

My boat expectant lies,

And jealous flowers, as thou goest by,

Unclose their dewy eyes.

As slowly down the stream we glide,

The lilies all unfold

Their leaves, less rosy white than thou,

And virgin hearts of gold;

The gay birds on the meadow elm

Salute thee blithe and bold,

While I sit shy and silent here,

And glow with love untold.