Page:Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 35 1832.pdf/2



"And 'tis my faith that every flower  Enjoys the air it breathes."—

of starry clearness bright! Quivering urn of coloured light! Hast thou drawn thy cup's rich dye From th' intenseness of the sky? From a long, long fervent gaze, Through the year's first golden days, Up that blue and silent deep Where, like things of sculptured sleep,