University of Virginia Library


122

THE WINTER SPEEDWELL.

Ye wintry flowers, whose pensive dyes
Wake when the summer's lily sleeps!
Ye are like orphans, in whose eyes
Their low-laid mother's beauty weeps.
Oh, not like stars that come at eve,
Through dim clouds glimmering one by one,
And teach the failing heart to grieve,
Because another day is gone!
But like the hopes that linger yet
Upon the grave of sorrow's love,
And dare Affection to forget
The form below, the soul above;
Or like the thoughts that bid Despair
Repose in faith on Mercy's breast;
Givers of wings—from toil and care—
To fly away and be at rest!