Page:1808 Poems by Felicia Dorothea Browne.pdf/34



memory recal the chearful hours, The tranquil time that never can return; When gaily wandering in my native bowers, I once was smiling as the summer morn.

And why recal my early friendships dear, Why lead my thoughts to fond illusions past: They claim the plaintive tribute of a tear; I weep for dreams of joy that fled so fast.

Ah! still will Fancy all the scenes revive, The favorite scenes that charm'd my youthful breast; She bids them now in softer colours live, And paints the cottage of domestic rest.

When pleasure lighted up my sparkling eye, And on swift pinions flew the social day; Ah! then I pour'd the simple melody, To hail the brilliance of the matin ray.

Ah! still retentive only to my woe, Will memory trace the picture of my cot; And while in vain the tears of sorrow flow, I rove in fancy to the sacred spot: