Caroline Poem by Albert Pike

They said that we should meet no more,
They said she never should be mine
They swore to see me dead, before
I should wed Caroline.
But rivers to the ocean run,
And none can stay their rapid course;
The springs gush upward to the sun,
With a resistless force;
Man cannot keep fond lips apart,
Nor sever loving heart from heart,
Nor me from Caroline.

What chains can fetter the fond soul,
Or bind the pre-determined will?
I left them in their wealth to roll,
I was a free man still.
I wandered to the far Southwest,
I labored manfully and long,
For Caroline inspired my breast,
Her promise made me strong.
And now, a free man still, I ride,
To claim my lovely, blushing bride,
My dark-eyed Caroline.

There is a green and cheerful spot,
Where, through a valley, ramparted
With mountains, the bright COSSITOT
Sparkles along its bed;
The forest, from the river's brim
In stately semicircle sweeps;
In which, imprisoned like a gem,
An emerald meadow sleeps;
Across it, through the columned green,
A pleasant cottage may be seen,
Builded for Caroline.

No earl hath lovlier demesne
Than that fair valley's solitude;
Nor looks on forests half so green
As that primeval wood.
And it is honestly my own,
Its price with my own Hands I earned,
For long I labored there alone,
While still I often turned
Mine eyes to our old home, and knew
That there she waited, fond and true,
My constant Caroline.

My dear wife's loving, happy eyes,
Her cheerful voice and sunny looks,
Our love, that flower from Paradise,
And music, and old books;
With honest labor every day,
All blessing our sweet solitude,
Shall from our fireside scare away
All troubles that intrude.
And while life calmly journeys on,
Dearer with each returning sun
Shall be my Caroline.