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32
VERSES WRITTEN IN AN ALCOVE.
This is sure the haunt of fairies,
In yon cool alcove they play;
Care can never cross the threshold,—
Care was only made for day.
In yon cool alcove they play;
Care can never cross the threshold,—
Care was only made for day.
Far from hence be noisy Clamour,
Sick Disgust and anxious Fear;
Pining Grief and wasting Anguish
Never keep their vigils here.
Sick Disgust and anxious Fear;
Pining Grief and wasting Anguish
Never keep their vigils here.
Tell no tales of sheeted spectres
Rising from the quiet tomb;
Fairer forms this cell shall visit,
Brighter visions gild the gloom.
Rising from the quiet tomb;
Fairer forms this cell shall visit,
Brighter visions gild the gloom.
Choral songs and sprightly voices
Echo from her cell shall call;
Sweeter, sweeter than the murmur
Of the distant waterfall.
Echo from her cell shall call;
Sweeter, sweeter than the murmur
Of the distant waterfall.
