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THE WILD ROBE. 3§9 |
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How gladly all things seem'd to smile!
With what a holy light! The azure heavens were glowing, mild,
And the pure sun how bright! How could I be unhappy where All nature smiled so sweetly fair ?
The quiv'ring vine, the rustling leaf, The breeze which murmur'd by,
All seem'd to chide me for my grief, And bid my sadness fly;
And every wind and every flower
Spoke of a happy meeting-hour.
1S47.
THE WILD ROSE. I came from the forest—they call me wild, For I grew where the sunbeam seldom smiled ; I bloom'd in the shade of the brier and brake, On the lonely bank of a beautiful lake.
No gentle hand train'd me—exempt from all care I shed my rich fragrance in solitude there : I met not the glance of admiring eyes, Nor blush'd in the glare of the open skies.
How lone my seclusion! there sacred and still, The soft dews of heaven my petals would thrill, And the breeze was more pure, and no sound was
heard Save the noise of waters, and the song of the bird. |
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