 | The poetical works of Henry Kirke White |  |
X.
[When high romance o'er every wood and stream]
When high romance o'er every wood and streamDark lustre shed, my infant mind to fire,
Spell-struck, and filled with many a wondering dream,
First in the groves I woke the pensive lyre.
All there was mystery then, the gust that woke
The midnight echo with a spirit's dirge,
And unseen fairies would the moon invoke
To their light morrice by the restless surge.
Now to my sobered thought with life's false smiles,
Too much. . .
The vagrant Fancy spreads no more her wiles,
And dark forebodings now my bosom fill.
| The poetical works of Henry Kirke White | |