Page:Felicia Hemans in The Literary Souvenir 1828.pdf/6



I. ! for thy wings, thou dove! Now sailing by with sunshine on thy breast; That borne like thee above, I too might flee away, and be at rest!

II. Where wilt thou fold those plumes, Bird of the forest-shadows, holiest bird? In what rich leafy glooms, By the sweet voice of hidden water stirred?

III. Over what blessed home, What roof with dark, deep summer-foliage crowned, O fair as Ocean's foam! Shall thy bright bosom shed a gleam around?