 | Italy and Other Poems |  |
312
FAREWELL TO BEVIS MOUNT.
Mary! ere yet with lingering step we leaveThese bow'rs, the haunt of Peace, where many a year
Has o'er us pass'd delightful, if a tear
Stray down my cheek, not for myself I grieve.
Here thou hadst fondly hop'd till life's last eve
To rest. On yonder bank the flow'rs appear
Nurs'd by thy culture: there thy wodbines rear
Their tendrils. Thou, ah! thou, unseen, wilt heave
A sigh, what time we bid these groves farewell:
Yet in thy breast resides a soothing pow'r,
That sheds the sweet not found in herb or flow'r.
Oh, Mary! what to us where doom'd to dwell?
Enough, that Peace and thou can never part:
Belov'd of me the spot where'er thou art.
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