Page:Poems Douglas.djvu/198

A murm'ring stream—pure as the dewy tear
 The sun's warm kiss sips from the blushing rose—
Flowed o'er its pebbled bed, so smooth and clear,
 Its very murmurs whispered of repose.
Eve's wanton zephyrs lightly waved the turf,
 Where spread the dewy thyme and purple heath,
Curling with fragrant wing the silvery surf
 Of Doon's bright stream, in many a dimpling wreath;

Parting the green boughs o'er the bower, entwined
 As if to let the yellow sunlight gleam
Upon the face of one mid flowers reclined,
 Who seemed entranced in some delightful dream;
For ever and anon the spirit's glow
 Danced like a sunbeam in his hazel eye,
Where could be traced the feeling's ardent flow,
 Rising from the warm heart's ecstacy.

He was a child of nature, and he heard
 Her voice in the soft music breathed around,
In the low murmur when the leaves were stirred,
 In the bright streamlet's joyous song-like sound;
He traced her blooming footsteps in the grove,
 And in the richer wildness of the glen;
Her beauties lured her willing feet to rove
 Far from the bustling haunts of busy men.

And oft the fragrant solitude he sought—
 He loved to linger there at eventide,
For then the deep, luxuriant stream of thought
 Through many a wild and flow'ry maze would glide.