How the lone paths retrace, where thou wert playing
So late along the mountains at my side?
And I, in joyous pride,
By every place of flowers my course delaying,
Wove, e'en as pearls, the lilies round thy hair,
Beholding thee so fair!
And, oh! the home whence thy bright smile hath parted!
Will it not seem as if the sunny day
Turn'd from its door away,
While, thro' its chambers wandering weary-hearted,
I languish for thy voice, which past me still,
Went like a singing rill?
Under the palm-trees, thou no more shalt meet me,
When from the fount at evening I return,
With the full water-urn!
Nor will thy sleep's low, dove-like murmurs greet me,
As midst the silence of the stars I wake,
And watch for thy dear sake.
And thou, will slumber's dewy cloud fall round thee
Without thy mother's hand to smooth thy bed?
Wilt thou not vainly spread
Thine arms, when darkness as a veil hath wound thee,
To fold my neck; and lift up, in thy fear,
A cry which none shall hear?
Page:Felicia Hemans in The Amulet 1826.pdf/5
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