Poems (Holford)/Lady Isabel: a Song

by Margaret Holford (1778-1852)

LADY ISABEL.

 

A SONG.

 

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Оh, soft crept repose o'er thy gentle breast,
Oh mild on thine eyes the slumbers fell!
While a seraph still lull'd thee to thy rest
With—"Bless thee Lady Isabel!"

 Oh sweet is thy walk in the rosy morn,
When the drop hangs bright in the lily's bell!
E'en the linnet which bends yon slender thorn
Sings—"Bless thee Lady Isabel!"

 Oh sweet is thy walk in the twilight hour,
When thine ear drinks the distant curfew's swell!
For the silence which dwells on the moonlight bow'r,
Says—"Bless thee Lady Isabel!"

 Oh sweet is thy walk 'mid the crowds of life!
Sweeter than tongue of Bard can tell!
They are hush'd—the sounds of woe and strife,
For—"Bless thee Lady Isabel!"

 Oh the old have bless'd thee ere they died,
And from lisping tongues the blessing fell;
And from blushing morn till even tide
'Tis—"Bless thee Lady Isabel!".

 That blessing shall lay on thy breast at night,
To guard thy sleep from visions fell,
And the sound that hails thy morning light
Be—"Bless thee Lady Isabel!"

 And, Lady, when thy farewel sigh
Has sadden'd a world that loves thee well,—
Then, Seraphs shall sing thee to their sky
With—"Bless thee Sister Isabel!"