 | Songs of the Seasons |  |
In her Empire, all was beauty,
Glowing, ravishing, possessing!
Love lay fondled and caressing
In the lusty arms of Duty.
All was beauty, which her sceptre
Touched, or shadowing overwaved—
Beauty that enkindled rapture,
Conquered, fettered, and enslaved.
Rosy curtains in the dawning,
In the eve a rosier awning!
In the noon-tide, a contention
Of bright azures overhead;
Fleecy clouds in rapt suspension—
To the visionary mind
Kindred to the angel kind,—
Such as in the great Ascension
Waited with their wings outspread
To escort the Risen Dead.
All was beauty and perfection
In my queenly Sister's time.
Poets from her drew direction—
Drew the thoughts that make sublime—
The sweet fancies that give lustre
To the harmony of rhyme!
Now, around the bed of state,
By her coffined presence pressed,
Bards of every nation cluster,
And all great Designers wait.
Glowing, ravishing, possessing!
Love lay fondled and caressing
In the lusty arms of Duty.
All was beauty, which her sceptre
Touched, or shadowing overwaved—
Beauty that enkindled rapture,
Conquered, fettered, and enslaved.
Rosy curtains in the dawning,
In the eve a rosier awning!
In the noon-tide, a contention
Of bright azures overhead;
Fleecy clouds in rapt suspension—
To the visionary mind
Kindred to the angel kind,—
Such as in the great Ascension
9
To escort the Risen Dead.
All was beauty and perfection
In my queenly Sister's time.
Poets from her drew direction—
Drew the thoughts that make sublime—
The sweet fancies that give lustre
To the harmony of rhyme!
Now, around the bed of state,
By her coffined presence pressed,
Bards of every nation cluster,
And all great Designers wait.
| Songs of the Seasons | |