Poems by Felicia Dorothea Browne/The Wreath of Spring

2665551Poems by Felicia Dorothea Browne — The Wreath of SpringFelicia Hemans


THE WREATH OF SPRING.


I rov'd in the meadows, the vales, and the bowers,
    While the leaves were bespangled with dew;
And I cull'd in profusion the blossoms and flowers,
    Excelling in fragrance and hue.

The primrose of spring in the wreath I combin'd,
    And the violet modest and pale;
And there the wild roses and myrtles entwin'd,
    With the lily which droops in the vale.

The harebell that smiles in the dingle I sought,
    Of the softest ethereal blue;
And then to Celinda the garland I brought,
    While the buds were all shining in dew.
 
"Oh! take the sweet flowers in their beauty," I said,
    "While yet they are lovely and gay;
"For soon, my Celinda, their bloom will be fled,
    "Too early they wither away.

"This lily so gracefully languid and fair,
    "Might have faded unseen in the grove;
"Yet the balm of its odour was borne on the air,
    "And it weeps in the wreath of my love.


"To you, my Celinda, the rose-bud I bring,
    "While its leaves are begemm'd with the dew,
"'Tis the darling of Flora, the treasure of spring;
    "How lovely an emblem of you.

"But oh! when the roses of beauty and youth,
    "Like the bloom of the flower shall decay;
"The myrtle of love and perennial truth,
    "Shall be smiling and fresh as in May."