Zóphiël ; or, the bride of seven | ||
XXII.
Here, too, the lily raised its snow-white head;And myrtle-leaves, like friendship when sincere,
Most sweet when wounded, all around were spread;
And, though from noon's fierce heat the wild deer fled,
A soft warm twilight reigned impervious here.
Zóphiël ; or, the bride of seven | ||