The works of Mrs. Hemans With a memoir of her life, by her sister. In seven volumes |
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THE WANDERER AND THE NIGHT-FLOWERS. |
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 | The works of Mrs. Hemans |  |
THE WANDERER AND THE NIGHT-FLOWERS.
Call back your odours, lovely flowers,
From the night-winds call them back;
And fold your leaves till the laughing hours
Come forth in the sunbeam's track!
From the night-winds call them back;
And fold your leaves till the laughing hours
Come forth in the sunbeam's track!
The lark lies couch'd in her grassy nest,
And the honey bee is gone,
And all bright things are away to rest,
Why watch ye here alone?
And the honey bee is gone,
And all bright things are away to rest,
Why watch ye here alone?
17
Is not your world a mournful one,
When your sisters close their eyes,
And your soft breath meets not a lingering tone
Of song in the starry skies?
When your sisters close their eyes,
And your soft breath meets not a lingering tone
Of song in the starry skies?
Take ye no joy in the dayspring's birth,
When it kindles the sparks of dew?
And the thousand strains of the forest's mirth,
Shall they gladden all but you?
When it kindles the sparks of dew?
And the thousand strains of the forest's mirth,
Shall they gladden all but you?
Shut your sweet bells till the fawn comes out
On the sunny turf to play,
And the woodland child with a fairy shout
Goes dancing on its way!
On the sunny turf to play,
And the woodland child with a fairy shout
Goes dancing on its way!
“Nay, let our shadowy beauty bloom
When the stars give quiet light,
And let us offer our faint perfume
On the silent shrine of night.
When the stars give quiet light,
And let us offer our faint perfume
On the silent shrine of night.
“Call it not wasted, the scent we lend
To the breeze, when no step is nigh;
Oh thus for ever the earth should send
Her grateful breath on high!
To the breeze, when no step is nigh;
Oh thus for ever the earth should send
Her grateful breath on high!
“And love us as emblems, night's dewy flowers,
Of hopes unto sorrow given,
That spring through the gloom of the darkest hours,
Looking alone to heaven!”
Of hopes unto sorrow given,
That spring through the gloom of the darkest hours,
Looking alone to heaven!”
| The works of Mrs. Hemans | |