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Poems

By Edward Quillinan. With a Memoir by William Johnston

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THE GROVES OF ENTRE QUINTAS.
  
  
  
  
  
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213

THE GROVES OF ENTRE QUINTAS.

Where scenes so sweet the Douro greet
Before he joins the main,
Where nature hails from Porto's vales
That truant child of Spain;
Where many a green and golden screen
Adorns his banks romantic,
Ere yet he glides among the tides,
And tastes the salt Atlantic;
Though many a muse might pause to choose
'Twixt Freixo and Avintes,
No bowers can strike my fancy like
The groves of Entre Quintas.

214

There stands the tree of lordly grace,
Of all Magnolias grandest;
And there I saw the fairest face,
The fairest and the blandest.
I saw a smile, alas the while,
It was not meant for me!
I saw a cheek whose beauty meek
I never more shall see.
A voice I heard, and every word
Was music soft and clear;
That thrilling tone till life is flown
I ever more shall hear.
Farewell! the bowers of orange flowers
From Porto to the sea!
Farewell thy blooms of rich perfumes,
Superb magnolia tree.
Farewell the rills on sunny hills
Ten thousand flowerets laving;
And fountains bland to coolness fann'd
By willows o'er them waving.

215

Arcades of vines, and groves of pines
That clothe each rocky fell;
And every shrub that greenly shines,
And every bud, farewell!
And fare thee well, thou fairest grace
Beside the western sea!
Thy form will haunt me to my place
Beneath the cypress-tree.