Page:Felicia Hemans in The Winter's Wreath 1830.pdf/4



to thee, O Earth! With all my gifts:—for every flower sweet dew, In bell, and urn, and chalice, to renew The glory of its birth.

Not one which glimmering lies Far amidst folding hills or forest-leaves, But, through its veins of beauty, so receives A spirit of fresh dyes.

I come with every star: Making thy streams, that on their noon-day track Gave but the moss, the reed, the lily back, Mirrors of Worlds afar.

I come with Peace; I shed Sleep through thy wood-walks o'er the honey-bee, The lark's triumphant voice, the fawn's young glee, The hyacinth's meek head.