Page:Felicia Hemans in The Winter's Wreath 1830.pdf/7



a dream of olden days, That art, by some strange power, The visionary form could raise From the ashes of a flower.

That a shadow of the Rose, By its own meek beauty bow'd, Might slowly, leaf by leaf, unclose Like Pictures in a cloud.

Or the Hyacinth to grace As a second rainbow, Spring; Of Summer's path a dreary trace, A fair, yet mournful thing!