Page:1808 Poems by Felicia Dorothea Browne.pdf/35





There fragrant woodbines form'd a mantling bower; And there I planted the luxuriant vine; There love and friendship bless'd the festive hour, While every rural happiness was mine.

Ah! thus will "sadly-pleasing" memory dwell On all the hopes, the fond illusions o'er; And still with touching power she loves to tell, Of happy moments to return no more.

 

bending to the gentle gale, The modest lily of the vale; Hid in its leaf of tender green, Mark its soft and simple mien. Thus sometimes Merit blooms retir'd, By genius, taste, and fancy fir'd; And thus 'tis oft the wanderer's lot, To rove to Merit's peaceful cot, As I have found the lily sweet, That blossoms in this wild retreat.