Pen and pencil pictures . e snowy leaves,Which round about its bosom fold,Conceal beneath their purityA heart—like Thine, Love,—all of gold And how—Thy beautys type beside,So modestly, so sweetly worn—The bright green leaves a flower hide,Like Thy pure heart, without a thorn ! That rose amid Thy raven locksIn beauty bloomed, till laid aside—Like my sad heart when Thou art gone-It withered silently—and died ! Yet—for because it died for Thee,Amid Thy night-like tresses, Sweet,Upon my heart that rose shall beUntil that heart shall cease to beat! THE SPARKLING WATERS. Adown—adown,Down to the roll
Pen and pencil pictures . e snowy leaves,Which round about its bosom fold,Conceal beneath their purityA heart—like Thine, Love,—all of gold And how—Thy beautys type beside,So modestly, so sweetly worn—The bright green leaves a flower hide,Like Thy pure heart, without a thorn ! That rose amid Thy raven locksIn beauty bloomed, till laid aside—Like my sad heart when Thou art gone-It withered silently—and died ! Yet—for because it died for Thee,Amid Thy night-like tresses, Sweet,Upon my heart that rose shall beUntil that heart shall cease to beat! THE SPARKLING WATERS. Adown—adown,Down to the rolling seaThe streamlets waters runWith noisy glee ! On—ever on, On to the rocky steep The sparkling wavelets flow, Then downward leap. East—ever fastOver the rocky edgeDown leaps the foaming tideFrom ledge to ledge ! Why—tell me whySo swiftly on ye flee ?Bright waters, tell me whyYe seek the sea ? 132 THE SPARKLING WATERS. Why, alas! whyWould ye so soon pass by,And, falling in the sea,Forgotten—die ?. THE TWO BATTLE FIELDS. stood by the bank of a streamlet, Not far from its mossy source, Where with murmured delight it trembled Down its sloping and winding course. The water was clear and gleaming,And each drop of the sparkling sprayOn the grasses that fringed its marginLike a glittering diamond lay. But as slowly I wandered, watchingThe weeds in its shallow bed,A sod fell into the streamlet,Detached by my careless tread. And where with its roots and fibresIt had broken away the sward,Half-hidden in earth I discoveredThe hilt of a shattered sword. 134 THE TWO BATTLE FIELDS. Then vanished the scene around streamlet ran clear no more,And the grasses that fringed its marginWere trampled and stained with gore. And the shouts and the din of battleOn my hearing began to rise,And the folds of the hostile bannersWaved proudly before mine eyes. The plumes in the wind were dancing,The sabres were flashing bright,And thus with the eye of fancyBeheld I the Sedgmo
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1850, bookpublisherlondon, bookyear185
