So mild was the ev'ning, so calm was the sky,
So soft was the lustre that beam'd from her eye,
So sweet was her voice, while it spoke to my heart,
That I linger'd and loiter'd, still loth to depart.

She blush'd and look'd down, when she saw my delay,
O could I but hope that she wish'd me to stay!
In vain I endeavour my pain to beguile,
Her voice I still hear, still I see her dear smile!

O Winifred, sweet as yon lonely wild rose,
In the deep shelter'd cleft of the mountain that grows,
While I cherish thy image that lives in my heart,
From solitude's peace I am loth to depart.

O would she but visit my cot in the grove,
Where the ring-doves are cooing, and telling their love,
When softly she hears me my passion impart,
Perhaps she, like them, might be loth to depart.