Page:1808 Poems by Felicia Dorothea Browne.pdf/43



Or weave the smiling wreath of flowers, And sport away the light-wing'd hours. Soon we'll run the agile race, Soon, dear play-mates, we'll embrace; Through the wheat-field or the grove, We'll hand in hand delighted rove; Or, beneath some spreading oak, Ponder the instructive book; Or view the ships that swiftly glide, Floating on the peaceful tide: Or raise again the caroll'd lay; Or join again in mirthful play; Or listen to the humming bees, As their murmurs swell the breeze; Or seek the primrose where it springs; Or chase the fly with painted wings: Or talk amidst the arbour's shade; Or mark the tender shooting blade; Or stray beside the babbling stream, When Luna sheds her placid beam; Or gaze upon the glassy sea; Happy, happy, shall we be.