 | The Dramatic and Poetical Works of Joanna Baillie |  |
XLIII.
These ye may guess, for well the showAnd outward signs of joy we know.
But cease we on this theme to dwell,
For pen or pencil cannot tell
The thrill of keen delight from which they flow.
Such moments of ecstatic pleasure
Are fancy's fairest, brightest treasure,
Gilding the scope of duller days
With oft-recurring retrospect,
With which right happily she plays.
E'en as a moving mirror will reflect
Its glancing rays on shady side
Of holme or glen, when school-boys guide
With skilful hands their mimic sun
To heaven's bright sun opposed; we see
Its borrow'd sheen on fallow dun,
On meadow green, on rock and tree,
On broomy steep, on rippling spring,
On cottage thatch, and every thing.
| The Dramatic and Poetical Works of Joanna Baillie | |