Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/289

As the clear dews in morning's beam,
With soft reflected colouring stream,
Catch every tint of eastern gem,
To form the rose's diadem;
But vanish, when the noontide hour,
Glows fiercely on the shrinking flower;
Thus in thy soul each calm delight,
Like morn's first dew-drops, pure and bright.
Fled swift from passion's blighting fire,
Or lingered only to expire!

Spring on thy native hills again,
    Shall bid neglected wild-flowers rise,
And call forth, in each grassy glen,
    Her brightest emerald dyes!
There shall the lonely mountain rose,
Wreath of the cliffs, again disclose;
'Midst rocky dells, each well-known stream,
Shall sparkle in the summer beam;
The birch, o'er precipice and cave,
Its feathery foliage still shall wave;