12
Trailing arbutus.
Were your pure lips fashioned
Out of air and dew:
Starlight unimpassioned,
Dawn's. most tender hue—
And scented by the woods that gathered sweets for you?
Out of air and dew:
Starlight unimpassioned,
Dawn's. most tender hue—
And scented by the woods that gathered sweets for you?
Fairest and most lonely,
From the world apart,
Made for beauty only,
Veiled from Nature's heart,
With such unconscious grace as makes the dream of Art!
From the world apart,
Made for beauty only,
Veiled from Nature's heart,
With such unconscious grace as makes the dream of Art!
Were not mortal sorrow
An immortal shade,
Then would I to-morrow
Such a flower be made,
And live in the dear woods where my lost childhood played.
An immortal shade,
Then would I to-morrow
Such a flower be made,
And live in the dear woods where my lost childhood played.
