44
But thy fair bank, in beauty gay,
Can boast the blooming tints of May;
Pure, limpid, sparkling, is the flood
That murmurs through thy tangl'd wood;
And fragrant is the balmy gale,
That gently whispers through the vale.
Can boast the blooming tints of May;
Pure, limpid, sparkling, is the flood
That murmurs through thy tangl'd wood;
And fragrant is the balmy gale,
That gently whispers through the vale.
Oh! pleasant is thy turfy seat,
Sweet is thy shade, my lov'd retreat!
Bright pansies deck th' enamell'd ground,
Cowslips and harebels wave around;
The dandelion, brilliant weed!
Spreads its gay blossoms o'er the mead,
Like stars, that in December's gloom
A countless host, the sky illume.
In superstition's dreary hour
Vast is thy sway, thou star-like flow'r!
Thy light and feather'd orb reveals
The husband, cruel fate conceals,
Sweet is thy shade, my lov'd retreat!
Bright pansies deck th' enamell'd ground,
Cowslips and harebels wave around;
The dandelion, brilliant weed!
Spreads its gay blossoms o'er the mead,
Like stars, that in December's gloom
A countless host, the sky illume.
In superstition's dreary hour
Vast is thy sway, thou star-like flow'r!
Thy light and feather'd orb reveals
The husband, cruel fate conceals,
