Page:Felicia Hemans in The Literary Souvenir 1828.pdf/14



IV. Oh! thou hast wandered long From thy home without a guide, And thy native woodland song In thine altered heart hath died.

V. Thou hast flung the wealth away, And the glory of thy spring, And to thee the leaves' light play Is a long-forgotten thing.

VI. —But when wilt thou return? Sweet dews may freshen soon The flower within whose urn Too fiercely gazed the noon.

VII. O'er the image of the sky Which the lake's clear bosom wore, Darkly may shadows lie— But not for evermore.

VIII. Give back thy heart again To the gladness of the woods, To the birds' triumphant strain, To the mountain-solitudes!