Near The Broken Stile

American - Winslow Homer
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Title: Near The Broken Style, Composed By: Frank Romer, Published By: Oliver Ditson & Co., Year: 1857

Cover Lithograph By: Winslow Homer (1836-1910)

Winslow Homer is regarded by many as the greatest American painter of the nineteenth century. Born in Boston and raised in rural Cambridge, he began his career as a commercial printmaker, first in Boston and then in New York, where he settled in 1859. For Homer, the late 1860s and the 1870s were a time of artistic experimentation and prolific and varied output. He resided in New York City, making his living chiefly by designing magazine illustrations and building his reputation as a painter.

Early in the morning, ‘mid the meadows gay,
While the breeze was scented with the new mown hay,
Ev’ry bud and blossom sweetly seem’d to smile,
When by chance, he met me, near the broken stile.
Little, then, was spoken, yet did he disclose
Thoughts, that came like perfume from the op’ning rose;
Ev’ry bud and blossom sweetly seem’d to smile,
When, by chance, he met me, near the broken stile.

Soon beside the altar, hand in hand we stood,
Heart to heart responded truly as they should,
While above the vallies rose the morning sun,
Voices whispered round us, he and I were one.
Since that morn with pleasure ev’ry hour’s been rife,
He calls me his treasure, and his darling wife,
Gladly we remember, when with loving smile,
Promises were given near the broken stile.

Gently flow’rs were blooming, and the golden corn
In the breeze was waving, at the early morn;
When, again, I met him, ling’ring near the stile,
Swift he came to greet me with a gentle smile.
Earnest words were spoken, wand’ring by my side,
Till he gain’d my promise that I’d be his bride.
Oh! I love the morning when, with gentle smile,
Swift he came to greet me, near the broken stile.