Poems Chiefly Written in Retirement, By John Thelwall; With Memoirs of the Life of the Author. Second Edition |
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 | Poems |  |
The Woodbine.
Dovedale, Oct. 1797.
Sweet flower! that loiterest on the autumnal branch
Beyond thy wonted season, pleas'd to view,
In Dove's pure mirror, thy reflected charms,
And cheer her with thy fragrance, be thou blest!—
For thou hast sooth'd my heart; and thy soft scent
(Mild as the balmy breath of early love!)
Hath warm'd my kindling fancy with the thoughts
Of joys long past—of vernal days, how sweet!
Past with my gentle Stella, far away—
Even in the vale of Catmose. Or my heart,
Turning from retrospects to dreams of hope—
Paternal hope! can dwell on thee, sweet flower!
(Emblem of artless softness) till I see,
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Seeking the fragrant bower, to breathe, or hear,
(In Youth's due season) the delightful tale
Of foul-awakening passion. Gentle flower!
The thought, perchance, is wild—the hope is vain—
(For, ah! what blighting mildews wait the hours
Of life's frail spring-tide!) yet 'tis cheering sweet—
And my heart hails it, gentle flower!—well pleas'd
If o'er the sterrile scene of real life
Imagination sometimes shed around
Her transient blooms:—for blissful thoughts are bliss.
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