Ellen Gray or, The dead maiden's curse. A poem, by the late Dr. Archibald Macleod [i.e. W. L. Bowles] |
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 | Ellen Gray |  |
'Twas spring tide now: the butterfly more bright,
Wheel'd o'er the cowslips, in the rainbow light;
The lamb, the colt, the blackbird in the brake,
Seem'd all a vernal feeling to partake;
The “swallow twitter'd” in the earliest ray,
That show'd the flow'r on Gwinnear's turret grey;
More grateful comes the fragrance after rain,
To him who steals along the sweet-briar lane,
And all things seem, to the full heart, to bring
The blissful breathings of the world's first spring.
Wheel'd o'er the cowslips, in the rainbow light;
The lamb, the colt, the blackbird in the brake,
Seem'd all a vernal feeling to partake;
The “swallow twitter'd” in the earliest ray,
That show'd the flow'r on Gwinnear's turret grey;
More grateful comes the fragrance after rain,
To him who steals along the sweet-briar lane,
And all things seem, to the full heart, to bring
The blissful breathings of the world's first spring.
| Ellen Gray | |