THE LOVER'S ROCK.
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From off the blue-veined temples; on her cheek
There is a colour like the moss-rose bud
When first it opens, ere the sun and wind
Have kissed away its delicate slight blush.
And such a fairy shape, as those fine moulds
Of ancient Greece, whose perfect grace has given
Eternity to beauty. She was loved!
And the wild songs that tell how she was loved
Yet haunt their native valley. He was one
Who had each great and glorious gift, save gold;
Music was ever round his steps:—to him
There was deep happiness in nature's wild
And rich luxuriance, and he had the pride,
The buoyant hope, that genius ever feels
In dreaming of the path that it will carve
To immortality. A sweeter dream
