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Rh

All things but have their term. In truth, my child, I am glad that I indulged thee By coming forth at such an early hour To pay thy worship to so sweet a goddess, Upon her yearly feast.

I thank you, father! On her feast, 'tis said, That she, from mortal eye conceal'd, vouchsafes Her presence in such sweet and flowery spots: And where due offerings on her shrine are laid, Blesses all seeds and shoots, and things of promise.

How many places in one little day She needs must visit then!

But she moves swift as thought. The hasty zephyr, That stirr'd each slender leaf, now as we enter'd, And made a sudden sound, by stillness follow'd, Might be the rustling of her passing robe.

A pleasing fancy, Portia, for the moment, Yet wild as pleasing.

Wherefore call it wild? Full many a time I've listen'd when alone