A LEGEND OF THE RHINE.
131
Like woman, they have lost their loveliest gift,
When yielding to the fiery hour of passion:
The violet breath of love is purity.
On the shore opposite, a tower stands
In ruins, with a mourning robe of moss
Hung on the grey and shattered walls, which fling
A shadow on the waters; it comes o'er
The waves, all bright with sunshine, like the gloom
Adversity throws on the heart's young gladness.
I saw the river on a summer eve:
The sun was setting over fields of corn,—
'Twas like a golden sea;—and on the left
Were vineyards, whence the grapes shone forth like gems,
