miscellaneous poems.
123
But she, the fairest and the loved—amid that joyous throng,
Whose life seemed hut one pleasant dream of perfume and of song,
Seemed weary; with impatient look she glanced her eyes around—
Ah! like the Ark's fair Dove—no green, nor resting place they found.
Whose life seemed hut one pleasant dream of perfume and of song,
Seemed weary; with impatient look she glanced her eyes around—
Ah! like the Ark's fair Dove—no green, nor resting place they found.
Gone was the echo of the dance—fled mirth and minstrelsy—
Nought hut a clear and placid stream, could that sweet lady see,
No sound, but sounds of tenderness, from one, whose manly tone
And noble bearing, won the heart that beat for him alone;
And he was bending on his knee, right by that pleasant stream.
(Oh! wonder not in grandeur's hall, came such a simple dream,
For Love will enter in as well as in the humble cot—
Nought hut a clear and placid stream, could that sweet lady see,
No sound, but sounds of tenderness, from one, whose manly tone
And noble bearing, won the heart that beat for him alone;
And he was bending on his knee, right by that pleasant stream.
(Oh! wonder not in grandeur's hall, came such a simple dream,
For Love will enter in as well as in the humble cot—
