Toward even, when the day leans down To kiss the upturned face of night, Out just beyond the loud-voiced town I know a spot of calm delight. Like crimson arrows from a quiver The red rays pierce the waters flowing, While we go dreaming, singing, rowing To Leudemanns-on-the-River.
The hills, like some glad mocking-bird, Send back our laughter and our singing, While faint—and yet more faint is heard The steeple bells all sweetly ringing. Some message did the winds deliver To each glad heart that August night, All heard, but all heard not aright, By Leudemanns-on-the-River.
Night falls as in some foreign clime, Between the hills that slope and rise. So dusk the shades at landing-time, We could not see each other’s eyes. We only saw the moonbeams quiver Far down upon the stream! that night The new moon gave but little light By Leudemanns-on-the-River.
How dusky were those paths that led Up from the river to the hall. The tall trees branching overhead Invite the early shades that fall. In all the glad blithe world, oh, never Were hearts more free from care than when We wandered through those walks, we ten, By Leudemanns-on-the-River.
So soon, so soon, the changes came. This August day we two alone, On that same river, not the same, Dream of a night for ever flown. Strange distances have come to sever The hearts that gaily beat in pleasure, Long miles we cannot cross or measure— From Leudemanns-on-the-River.
We’ll pluck two leaves, dear friend, to-day. The green, the russet! seems it strange So soon, so soon, the leaves can change! Ah me! so runs all life away. This night-wind chills me, and I shiver; The Summer-time is almost past. One more good-bye—perhaps the last To Leudemanns-on-the-River.
Every morning and every night There passes our window near the street, A little girl with an eye so bright, And a cheek so round and a lip so sweet! The daintiest, jauntiest little miss That ever any one longed to kiss,
She is neat as wax, and fresh to view, And her look is wholesome, and clean, and good. Whatever her gown, her hood is blue, And so we call her our “Little Blue Hood,” For we know not the name of the dear little lass, But we call to each other to see her pass,
“Little Blue Hood is coming now!” And we watch from the window while she goes by, She has such a bonny, smooth, white brow, And a fearless look in her long-lashed eye! And a certain dignity wedded to grace Seems to envelop her form and face.