 | Poems by Hartley Coleridge |  |
240
SONG.
Rose, and violet, and pansy,
Each has told a tale of love,
Various with the freak of fancy.
Apt and bold the fields to rove,
See the pansy;
Seek her not in secret grove.
Each has told a tale of love,
Various with the freak of fancy.
Apt and bold the fields to rove,
See the pansy;
Seek her not in secret grove.
Rose of summer, lovely creature!
Who did ever look on thee,
But beheld the very feature
Which he most was glad to see,—
Fairest, dearest,
Whosoe'er the dear may be?
Who did ever look on thee,
But beheld the very feature
Which he most was glad to see,—
Fairest, dearest,
Whosoe'er the dear may be?
Long ago, when I was roaming,
In a shady path I met,
Dim and blue as summer gloaming,
Far apart from all the rest,
Meek and lowly,
Her, my own dear violet.
In a shady path I met,
Dim and blue as summer gloaming,
Far apart from all the rest,
Meek and lowly,
Her, my own dear violet.
| Poems by Hartley Coleridge | |