Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1828.pdf/11



It greeted me she was alone, within her favourite bower, And bade me welcome if I there could loiter twilight's hour!

The first star rose above the west, and I was on my way To where, amid the orange-grove, her jasmine alcove lay; I marvelled somewhat as I came, such disarray I found— The flowers had fallen from her hair, her lute was on the ground;

Herself flung on the violets, sweet watchers, fit to keep A perfumed atmosphere of sighs around her summer sleep; One ivory foot was bare, so small, the violets o'er it spread, And one white arm made dove-like nest to shield that lovely head.

A vellum tablet filled her hand—oh well I knew the line! For there were written words of love—the tender words were mine. Now sweet, but not too long, love mine, thy gentle sleeping be; My heart beat when I saw those lines—perhaps she dreams of me.