Stones from The Quarry or, Moods of Mind. By Henry Browne [i.e. Henry Ellison] |
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TO MAY, ON A LOVELY, DREAMY DAY. |
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 | Stones from The Quarry |  |
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TO MAY, ON A LOVELY, DREAMY DAY.
O thou soft Siren full of flatteries!With honey-breath, with lazy hum of bee,
Not Industry's blithe pipe now, but to me
Turned to its opposite, in drowsy wise;
And, for more spells, more subtle witcheries,
Soft rustle of the leaves, birds' melodie,
With falling waters, making sense to flee,
And Time, to keep awake still, rub his eyes.
O thou sweet Sybarite! I lay my head
On thy voluptuous breast, whose Siren beat
Unstrengths, as Samson shorn Delilah led!
Like the beats of doves' wings the moments fleet;
I lie on heap'd up roses, Nectar-fed,
Lapped from all cares in some divine retreat!
| Stones from The Quarry | |