James Hall

’T WAS far beyond yon mountains, dear, we plighted vows of love,

The ocean wave was at our feet, the autumn sky above,

The pebbly shore was covered o’er with many a varied shell,

And on the billows’ curling spray, the sunbeams glittering fell.

The storm has vexed that billow oft, and oft that sun hath set,

But plighted love remains with us, in peace and lustre yet.

I wiled thee to a lonely haunt, that bashful love might speak,

Where none could hear what love revealed, or see the crimson cheek;

The shore was all deserted, and we wandered there alone,

And not a human step impress’d the sand beach but our own;

The footsteps all have vanish’d from the billow beaten strand—

The vows we breathed remain with us—they were not traced in sand.

Far, far, we left the sea-girt shore, endear’d by childhood’s dream,

To seek the humble cot, that smiled by fair Ohio’s stream.

In vain the mountain cliff opposed, the mountain torrent roar’d,

For love unfurl’d her silken wing, and o’er each barrier soar’d;

And many a wide domain we passed, and many an ample dome,

But none so bless’d, so dear to us, as wedded love’s first home.

Beyond these mountains, now are all, that e’er we loved or knew,

The long remembered many, and the dearly cherished few;

The home of her we value, and the grave of him we mourn,

Are there; and there is all the part to which the heart can turn;

But dearer scenes surround us here, and lovelier joys we trace,

For here is wedded love’s first home—its hallowed resting place.