'Neath a tree by the margin of the
Whose spreading leafy boughs sweep the ground;
With a path leading thither o'er the prairie;
When silence hung the night around.
There often have I wander'd in the evening,
When the summer winds are fragrant on the lea There I saw the little beauty,
Bell Brandon, and we met 'neath the old arbor tree.
Bell Brandon was a birdling of the mountain,
In freedom she sported on her wing;
And they said the life current of the Red Man
Ting'd he veins from a far distant spring.
She lov'd her humble dweeling on the prairie,
And her guiless happy heart clung to me;
And I loved the little beauty Bell Brandon,
And we both loved the old arbor tree.
On the trunk of the aged tree I carv'd them
Our names on teh sturdy form remain;
But I now repair in sorrow to it's shelter,
And murmur to the wild wind my pain.
Oft I sit there in solitude repining
For the beauty dream that night brought to me;
Death has wed the little beauty,Bell Brandon,
And she sleeps 'neath the old arbor tree.
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