Remember Thee - Free Audiobook

HERE'S THE BOWER.

Here's the bower she loved so much,
  And the tree she planted;
Here's the harp she used to touch—
  Oh, how that touch enchanted!
Roses now unheeded sigh;
  Where's the hand to wreathe them?
Songs around neglected lie;
  Where's the lip to breathe them?
        Here's the bower, etc.

Spring may bloom, but she we loved
  Ne'er shall feel its sweetness;
Time, that once so fleetly moved,
  Now hath lost its fleetness.
Years were days, when here she strayed,
  Days were moments near her;
Heaven ne'er formed a brighter maid,
  Nor Pity wept a dearer!
        Here's the bower, etc.