Sweet Alice, Ben Bolt. Pat's Pick, page 93.

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Oh! don't you remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt, Sweet Alice, with hair so brown, She wept with delight when you gave her a smile, And trembled with fear at your frown. , In the old churchyard in the valley, Ben Bolt, In a corner obscure and alone, They have fitted a slab of granite so gray, And sweet Alice lies under the stone. They have fitted a slab of granite so gray, And sweet Alice lies under the stone. Oh! don't you remember the wood, Ben Bolt, Near the green, sunny slope of the hill, Where oft we have sung 'neath its wide spreading shade, And kept time to the click of the mill. The mill has gone to decay, Ben Bolt, And a quiet now reigns all around; See the old rustic porch, with its roses so sweet, Lies scatter'd and fallen to the ground. See the old rustic porch with its roses so sweet, Lies scatter'd and fallen to the ground. Oh! don't you remember the school, Ben Bolt, And the master so kind and so true, And the little nook by the clear running brook, Where we gathered the flower's as they grew. On the master's grave grows the grass, Ben Bolt, And a running little brook is now dry;