 | Songs of a Stranger |  |
132
LINES
WRITTEN IN NOVEMBER, AT BREMHILL, WILTS, THE RESIDENCE OF THE REV. W. L. BOWLES.
Sweet Bremhill! when last in thy gardens I stray'd,
Thy trees were all green and thy skies were all bright;
The spray of thy fountain 'midst roses that play'd,
Reflected their colours and glittered with light.
Thy trees were all green and thy skies were all bright;
The spray of thy fountain 'midst roses that play'd,
Reflected their colours and glittered with light.
Yet, Bremhill, though lost is the pride of thy flowers;
Though thy roses are faded, thy leaves swept away—
As gaily and sweetly have lingered the hours
As when they were bright in the sunshine of May.
Though thy roses are faded, thy leaves swept away—
As gaily and sweetly have lingered the hours
As when they were bright in the sunshine of May.
Thy mistress still smiles, and thy poet still sings—
Here the wise find their peer—here the poor find their friend:
Then, Bremhill, I mourn not that summer has wings,
Since thou hast a charm that no winter can end!
Here the wise find their peer—here the poor find their friend:
Then, Bremhill, I mourn not that summer has wings,
Since thou hast a charm that no winter can end!
| Songs of a Stranger | |