The pride of the village and the fairest in the dell,
Is the queen of my song and her name is Fairy Belle;
The sound of her light step may be heard upon the hill,
Like the fall of a snow drop or the dripping of the rill.
Fairy Belle, gentle Fairy Belle, The star of the night and the lily of the day,
Fairy Belle, the queen of all the dell, Long may she revel on her bright sunny way.
She sings to the meadows, and she carols to the streams, she laughs in the sun light,
and smiles while in her dreams; Her hair like the thistle down, is borne upon the air,
and her heart, like the humming bird's is free from every care.
Her soft notes of melody around me sweetly fall;
Her eye, full of love, is now beaming on my soul;
The sound of that gentle voice, the glance of that eye,
Surround me with rapture that no other heart could sigh.
Knight,J.P. She wore a wreath of roses NY/1857 Copy both Covers
She wore a wreath of roses the night that first we met,
Her lovely face was smiling beneath her curls of jet;
Her footsteps had the lightness, Her voice the joyous tone,
The tokens of a youthful heart where sorrow is unknown;
I saw her but a moment,
Yet me thinks I see her now with the wreath of summer flowers upon her snowy brow:
A wreath of orange blossoms when next we met, she wore;
The expression of her features was more thoughtful than before;
And standing by her side was one who strove and not in vain to soothe her,
leaving that dear home she ne'er might view again; I sawher but a moment
Yet me thinks I see her now with the wreath of orange blossoms upon her snowy brow.
And once again I see that brow no bridal wreath is there,
The widow's somber cap conceals her once luxuriant hair;
She weeps in silent solitude, and there is no one near
To press her hands within his own and wipe away the tear;
I see her broken hearted! Yet me thinks I see her now,
In the pride of youth and beauty, with a garland on her brow.