 | Poems |  |
88
[There's a crystalline cove hid in the deep-bosomed hills]
There's a crystalline cove hid in the deep-bosomed hills,
Where the perch and mullet rove, and chime the flashing rills,
And dandelions blush around, and daffodils perfume
The air, and carpet o'er the ground, and love the quiet gloom.
Where the perch and mullet rove, and chime the flashing rills,
And dandelions blush around, and daffodils perfume
The air, and carpet o'er the ground, and love the quiet gloom.
Amid the fresco concerts raise the songs of bliss above,
And the purlieu echoes praise, that charms the rosy grove,
And there the red-bird chirps and plays, and to his honied dome
The freeborn bee, 'mid lauding lays, on weary wing doth roam.
And the purlieu echoes praise, that charms the rosy grove,
And there the red-bird chirps and plays, and to his honied dome
The freeborn bee, 'mid lauding lays, on weary wing doth roam.
The cocoa clasps the myrtle spray, and weaves a colonnade,
And flaunting woodbines wind their way, and tapestry the shade,
The whispering winds o'er floral lawns woo sorrow to repose,
And the sun of pleasure dawns, and bliss its mantle throws.
And flaunting woodbines wind their way, and tapestry the shade,
The whispering winds o'er floral lawns woo sorrow to repose,
And the sun of pleasure dawns, and bliss its mantle throws.
There on the limpid water dance the woodnymphs clothed in robes of flowers,
And dryads fling a raptured glance, and ringdoves, from their bowers,
In mellow music keep the chime, and rule their joyous measures,
And then they sleep on shores of thyme, and gather fairy treasures.
And dryads fling a raptured glance, and ringdoves, from their bowers,
89
And then they sleep on shores of thyme, and gather fairy treasures.
There in the linden groves of peace, and where bananas spread,
When the notes of woe shall cease, I'd lay my weary head,
Or rove along the pebbled shore, and rear a pearly dome,
Where fiery billows never roar, and vestal virgins come.
When the notes of woe shall cease, I'd lay my weary head,
Or rove along the pebbled shore, and rear a pearly dome,
Where fiery billows never roar, and vestal virgins come.
| Poems | |