Page:Felicia Hemans in The Monthly Magazine Volume 5 1828.pdf/2



Thou'rt bearing hence thy roses, Glad Summer, fare thee well! Thou'rt singing thy last melodies In every wood and dell.

But in the golden sunset Of thy latest lingering day, Oh! tell me, o'er this chequered earth, How hast thou passed away?

Brightly, sweet Summer! brightly Thine hours are floated by, To the joyous birds of the woodland boughs, The rangers of the sky.

And brightly in the forests, To the wild deer wandering free; And brightly, 'midst the garden-flowers, Is the happy murmuring bee.

But how to human bosoms, With all their hopes and fears, And thoughts that make them eagle-wings, To pierce the unborn years?

Sweet Summer! to the captive Thou hast flown in burning dreams Of the woods, with all their whispering leaves, And the blue rejoicing streams;—

To the wasted and the weary On the bed of sickness bound, In swift delicious fantasies, That changed with every sound;—

To the sailor on the billows, In longings, wild and vain, For the gushing founts and breezy hills, And the homes of earth again!

And unto me, glad Summer! How hast thou flown to me? My chainless footstep nought hath kept From thy haunts of song and glee.

Thou hast flown in wayward visions, In memories of the dead— In shadows, from a troubled heart, O'er thy sunny pathway shed:

In brief and sudden strivings, To fling a weight aside— 'Midst these thy melodies have ceased, And all thy roses died.

But, oh! thou gentle Summer! If I greet thy flowers once more, Bring me again the buoyancy Wherewith my soul should soar!

Give me to hail thy sunshine, With song and spirit free; Or in a purer air than this May that next meeting be!F. H.