 | Lays of Leisure Hours |  |
SONG.
Bring me a flower—a lovely flower,
To gaze on while I muse;
And many a meaning fraught with power
Shall I even there peruse.
To gaze on while I muse;
And many a meaning fraught with power
Shall I even there peruse.
Bright Poetry is writ in fire,
Fair Rose! thy leaves along—
And not the loveliest earthly lyre
Can shrine thee in its song.
Fair Rose! thy leaves along—
And not the loveliest earthly lyre
Can shrine thee in its song.
115
It cannot picture forth the intense
And burning glow thou bear'st;
And speak unto the kindled sense,
With half the might thou shar'st.
And burning glow thou bear'st;
And speak unto the kindled sense,
With half the might thou shar'st.
True wisdom preaches from your leaves,
Pure Lilies, fair as day—
The heart a solemn hint receives
From your divine array!
Pure Lilies, fair as day—
The heart a solemn hint receives
From your divine array!
A holy and a sweet renown,
Blest flowers, 'twas yours to win—
Ye call a regal pomp your own,
Ye! that ne'er toil nor spin!
Blest flowers, 'twas yours to win—
Ye call a regal pomp your own,
Ye! that ne'er toil nor spin!
Bring me those flowers, that I may think
On that dread page which says,
They toil not—yet all splendours sink
Before their vesture's blaze.
On that dread page which says,
They toil not—yet all splendours sink
Before their vesture's blaze.
116
Bring me a flower, some lovely flower,
To gaze on while I muse!
For Nature with her royal dower,
These for her crown doth choose.
To gaze on while I muse!
For Nature with her royal dower,
These for her crown doth choose.
| Lays of Leisure Hours | |