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Literary Gazette, 28th December, 1822, Page 825

ORIGINAL POETRY.

FRAGMENTS IN RHYME. X. - The Eve of St. John.

There is a flower, a magical flower, On which love hath laid a fairy power; Gather it on the eve of St. John, When the clock of the village is tolling one; Let no look be turned, no word be said, And lay the rose-leaves under your head; Your sleep will be light, and pleasant your rest, For your visions will be of the youth you love best. Four days I had not my own Love seen,— Where, sighed I, can my wanderer have been? I thought I would gather the magical flower, And see him at least in my sleeping hour!— St. John's Eve came: to the garden I flew, Where the white roses shone with the silver dew; The nightingale sang as I passed along— I started to hear even her sweet song; The sky was bright with moon and star-shine, And the wind was sweet as a whisper of thine, Dear love! for whose sake I stripped the tree-rose, And softly and silently stole to repose. No look I turned, and no word I said, But laid the white roses under my head. Oh, sweet was the dream that came to me then! I dreamt of a lonely and lovely glen; There was a clear and beautiful sky, Such as is seen in the blue July; To the north was a forest of darkling pine; To the south were hills all green with the vine, Where the ruby clusters sparkled like gems Seen upon princely diadems; On the rocks were goats as white as snow, And the sheep-bell was heard in the valley below;