The Legend of Genevieve with other tales and poems. By Delta [i.e. David Macbeth Moir] |
 |
STANZAS.
ON THIS GREEN BANK, &c. |
 |
|
 | The Legend of Genevieve |  |
131
STANZAS. ON THIS GREEN BANK, &c.
On this green bank I saw thee lie,
Upon a lovely afternoon,
When not a cloud was in the sky,
And birds were singing piously
Their hymns to leafy June.
Upon a lovely afternoon,
When not a cloud was in the sky,
And birds were singing piously
Their hymns to leafy June.
Too fair for daughter of mankind,
What marvel, if thou didst appear,
Beloved! to a poet's mind,
Some houri come from realms of wind,
To grace our lower sphere.
What marvel, if thou didst appear,
Beloved! to a poet's mind,
Some houri come from realms of wind,
To grace our lower sphere.
132
The rose-tree form'd a pleasant shade,
To shield thee from the burning sun;
And, ever as the zephyrs play'd,
They caught new fragrance, and convey'd
Its sweets to thee alone.
To shield thee from the burning sun;
And, ever as the zephyrs play'd,
They caught new fragrance, and convey'd
Its sweets to thee alone.
Years have elapsed; but yet, methinks,
Thy loveliness is present still,
Bright as the flowers on river brinks,
Pure as the lily, when it drinks
The freshness of the rill.
Thy loveliness is present still,
Bright as the flowers on river brinks,
Pure as the lily, when it drinks
The freshness of the rill.
The lake is calm, the sky is clear,
The woods array'd in living green;
The roses still are blooming near,
And only thou dost not appear,
Fair Naiad of the scene!
The woods array'd in living green;
The roses still are blooming near,
And only thou dost not appear,
Fair Naiad of the scene!
Thus, when the shadowy tempests lour,
With ruthless speed, the lightning blind
Flies arrowy downward, to devour
The landscape's solitary flower,
And leaves the weeds behind.
With ruthless speed, the lightning blind
Flies arrowy downward, to devour
The landscape's solitary flower,
And leaves the weeds behind.
133
For deserts would be lovely, where
Appear'd thy sweet, seraphic face;—
Scenes beautiful—however fair,
Even Eden, if thou wert not there,
Would be a lonely place!
Appear'd thy sweet, seraphic face;—
Scenes beautiful—however fair,
Even Eden, if thou wert not there,
Would be a lonely place!
| The Legend of Genevieve | |