The works of Mrs. Hemans With a memoir of her life, by her sister. In seven volumes |
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The works of Mrs. Hemans | ||
VIII.
Ye are from dingle and fresh glade, ye flowers!By some kind hand to cheer my dungeon sent;
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And the lark's nest was where your bright cups bent,
Quivering to breeze and raindrop, like the sheen
Of twilight stars. On you heaven's eye hath been,
Through the leaves, pouring its dark sultry blue
Into your glowing hearts; the bee to you
Hath murmur'd, and the rill.—My soul grows faint
With passionate yearning, as its quick dreams paint
Your haunts by dell and stream—the green, the free,
The full of all sweet sound—the shut from me!
The works of Mrs. Hemans | ||