200
GLADESMUIR.
With those who loved me. What a beauty dwelt
In each accustomed face! what music hung
On each familiar voice! We circled in
Our meeting ring of happiness. If e'er
This life has bliss, I knew and felt it then!
But there was one Ronald remembered not,
Yet 'twas a creature beautiful as Hope,
With eyes blue as the harebell when the dew
Sparkles upon its azure leaves; a cheek
Fresh as a mountain-rose, but delicate
As rainbow colours, and as changeful too.
"The orphan Ellen, have you then forgot
"Your laughing playmate?" Ronald would have clasp'd
The maiden to his heart, but she shrank back:
