Page:Literary Souvenir 1826.pdf/8



built a temple for the God, 'Twas in a myrtle grove, Where the bee and the butterfly Vied for each blossom's love.

The marble pillars rose like snow, Glittering in the sunshine; A thousand roses shed their breath, Like incense, o'er the shrine.

And there were censers of perfume, Vases with their sweet showers, And wreaths of every blended hue That lights the summer flowers.

And, like the breathing of those flowers Made audible, a sound Came, lulling as a waterfall, From lutes and voices 'round.