 | The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival |  |
[XXI. When the violet blows]
When the violet blows,
Light the swallow plumes his wings,
Sweet the earliest robin sings;
Something dearer brings the rose.
Light the swallow plumes his wings,
Sweet the earliest robin sings;
Something dearer brings the rose.
Fairer forms are nigh,
When the rose is full and bright:
Ever shapes of softest light
Then in glancing flight go by.
When the rose is full and bright:
Ever shapes of softest light
Then in glancing flight go by.
From what clime are they?
From the wakened heart they rise,
Bright as hues of orient skies:—
Soon the vision flies away.
From the wakened heart they rise,
Bright as hues of orient skies:—
Soon the vision flies away.
| The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival | |