Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1823.pdf/66



Of the sea-pearl, as Love breathed on their plumes. And each was mirror'd in the other's eyes, Floating and dark, a paradise of passion. And on the ground, half hidden by the grass And the pink clover flowers, lay a moss nest, The sweet home palace of those birds. There came A dim remembrance of a fairy tale,— Those tales mine earliest dreams of poetry: When halls built of the rainbows, perfumed isles Lighted by roses, caves of gold and gems Where Genii kept their treasures, gardens where The fountains played in music; when these realms Were my heart's world, and magic spells had charms Whose power to me was passionate happiness. There was one favourite tale: In the hot noon I wont to seek a little lonely nook,— None sought it but myself,— and read it there, My graver task too often laid aside For this sweet secret idlesse. There I lay Half buried by long grass and violets, One arm on an old trunk, and with my book Pillowed upon the moss, the sun shut out By the dark yew o'erhead, and on one side Hung two most graceful willows, and the pond Beneath was like their mirror, and the sun Shone through at times, and there like silver barks (Just a ship for Camdeo) white and tall, Floated the water lilies. This sweet tale Was of two lovers, true, though tried by all Of peril and of sorrow that the heart , Could bear and yet not break. There was one, A gentle Fairy, pitied them, and gave A gift of quiet happiness at last: And two fair Doves, in the calm greenwood shade, Their pleasant life was past. And this sweet dream Of the fine Painter called this tale to mind, With all its tenderness, its luxury Of peace and feeling. Love, oh love! thy home Is not in this rude world; oh gold and care Are thy death sickness. L. E. L.