POEKB OJ' JIATUU.L\ke a high-born maiden
Iu A. pn.lace tower,
Soothing her love-laden
Soul iu se\!ret hour
With music :oweet as love, wl.!d1 overftowa her bower:
Like a glow-worm golden
In a dell of dew,
Scattering unbeholden
Its a~Jrial hue '
Among the fiowera a.nd graaa, which screen it f'rom the
Tiew.
Like a rose embowered
In ita own green leaves,
By warm win(]a de1lowered,
Till the acent it gives
M.akee f'aint with too much sweet these heavy-winged
thieves.
Sound of vernal showers
On the twinkliug grass,
:Rain-awakened Bowers,
All tha.t ever was
Joyous, a.nd clear, and fresh, thy music doth aurpa11.
Teach ue, sprite or bird,
What eweet thoughta are thine:
I have never heard
Praise oflove or wine
That panted forth a 11ood of rapture ao divine.
Chorus hymeneal,
Or triumphal cha.nt,
M.atch'd with tlline would be all
But an empty vaunt-
A thing wherein we feel there ia aome hidden want.
What objects are the fountaiDa
Of thy happy etrai.%1 Y
What fields, or wavee, or mountains t.. What ahl\pea of ak{ or plaint
What love of thine own kind wl.t.at ~gnora.nce of paint
With thy clear keen joyance
Languor cannot be :
Shadow of annoya.nce
. Never came near thee:
Thou loveat; but ne'er knew love's aad satiety.