. . .Where the rock-cut waters comb
Flowing crystal into foam.
"Under trees whose trunks are brown,
On the banks that violets crown,
We will watch the fish flash down;
"While your ear my voice shall soothe
With a whisper soft and smooth
Till your care shall wax uncouth.
[Pg 11] "Come! where forests, line on line,
Armies of the oak and pine,
Scale the hills and shout and shine.
"We will wander, hand in hand,
Ways where tall the toadstools stand,
Mile-stones white of Fairyland.
"While your eyes my lips shall kiss,
Dewy as a wild rose is,
Till they gaze on naught but bliss.
"On the meadows you will hear,
Leaning low your spirit ear,
Cautious footsteps drawing near.
"You will deem it but a bee,
Murmuring soft and sleepily,
Till your inner sight shall see
"'Tis a presence passing slow,
All its shining hair ablow,<. . . Read More