University of Virginia Library


161

SERENADE.

Listen! from the forest boughs
The voice-like angel of the spring
Utters his soft vows
To the proud rose blossoming.
And now beneath thy lattice, dear!
I am like the bird complaining:
Thou above (I fear)
Like the rose disdaining.
From her chamber in the skies
Shouts the lark at break of morning,
And when day-light flies
Comes the raven's warning.
This of gloom and that of mirth
In their mystic numbers tell;
But thoughts of sweeter birth
Teacheth the nightingale.