Louisa Crow, Once a Week (1861)
“ Beneath the fir-trees’ welcome shade, we’ll wander as at eve. Have you that happy hour forgot—my murmur’d vows and sighs? Dear Marian, turn, and let me read my answer in thine eyes!” Fair Marian at his bidding turns; they pace beneath the trees, Whose tall and tender columns wave and mutter with each breeze. But those sweet eyes are filled with tears, the blush forsakes her cheek. “What is it troubles Marian so? Speak, little maiden, speak.” But Marian, resting on a bank, looks down and thinks awhile; The handsome noble, lounging near, looks on with careless smile. ”
