The Chanute times. [volume] (Chanute, Kan.) 1897-1913, 1905-11-03
The WiId.rose of Camden

Far out in the western highland,
| In those rugged mountains, grand,
Dwelt Verna, the lovely w lid rose
OF that rough and rocky land.
Dwelt she there in peace and COMFORT
Not q sorrow did she bear;
And her life was one sweet gladness
Under her Almighty's care,
Gold her hair, with sunshine laden;
In her eyes a deeper hue
Than shines in the skies at twilight,
When the stars come peeping thro.'
She was but a village maiden,-
Rough and unconth we're they there
| But they knew their Rose of Camden
Was the fairest of the fair.
But unto that distant country
Came a stranger,-unaware
| That the love he long had sighed for
would be waiting for him there.
Lord he was of many acres,
In his far off Scottish home:
Heir he was to many millions,
| Tho, he sought the world to roam.
Tired was he to the heart CORE
| Wearied of the idle show
Sick of all the gold and glitter
| 1t had been his lot to know.
Craved his soul for something higher
Something better, than the mere
Pomp and pride of snowy fashion,
Which the world oft holds as dear.
Handsome as Apollo was he.
with his hair OF jetty hue;
Brown the eyes that beamed forth softly
From face SO kind and true.
Bold he was, and daring ever
Strong he was of limb and arm;
And he woed and won sweet Verna,-
| Vowed to shield her from all harm,
Told her that he loved her truly,
| Held her dearer far than all
OF the maids he'd met before her.
In the palace, court or hall.
| "Ccme, my darling, trust me fully,
| Come with me across the sea-
I have castles grand and lovely,
Fit for only such as thee,
We will sail and sail together,
Ger the boundless reaching main,
Cross the hills and wales of England,
Thence across the rolling plain,
Till we reach the bonny Scotland,
Z Where the purple heather bio,
Where the nightingale sings sweetly
From the tree-top, soft and low.
Then sweet Wild rose,' will we rest there,
In the bonny Scottish cline;
And the blue-bells will ring gladly
From the meadows, chime on chime.
Live for me. my darling, only,
Heed thee not the worlds vain call
May the giddy whirl of fashion
Never thy fair soul inthrall.
We will wander thro' the wildwood
That thou loyest,-free from care;
Thou shalt gather starry blossoms
| Fair as thine own self is fair "
verna loved this unknown stranger,
Trusted him without a fear;
Gave her love,-life's sweetest treasure
Unto him she held so dear.
So in answer spoke up softly,
Spoke in accents sweet and clear:
II will go wnere ere thou widest.
For love thee, love thee, dearp'
| rut alas for fair swset Verna
And alas for all who dwell
In the airy, fairy castles.
Crumblii meath some raj knell.
Scourging DER that peaceful mountain,
Worse than any murd rer's band,
Came the pestilence offever.
Want and woe, still hand In hand.
Then upon the lovely 'Wild-rose,'
Sank the awful hand of doom,
Searching up her bright young girlhood,
With ring all her graceful bloom,
Till one still, sad morn and early,
With the pious parsons prayer
LII thay her meath pines and hemlock,
In the kindly Fathers care.
Then the Granger wandered hopeless
Over mountain-and and main;
Ever rushing madly onward,
On ceaseless, restless strain.
And thro' years of endless anguish
He is haunted by the face
OF that Wild-rose' lost in Camden,
Which no one can ere replace.