Page:Literary Souvenir 1826.pdf/13



It was a stream in Thessaly, the banks Were solitary, for the cypress trees Closed o'er the waters; yet at times the wind Threw back the branches, and then a sunbeam Flung down a golden gift upon the wave, And showed its treasures; for the pebbles shone Like pearls and purple gems, fit emblems they For the delights that hope holds up to youth, False in their glittering, and when they lose The sparkle of the water and the sun, They are found valueless. Is it not thus With pleasures, when the freshness and the gloss That young life threw o'er them has dried away?

One only flower grew in that lonely place, The lily, covered with its shadowy leaves, Even as some Eastern beauty with her veil,