Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/741

 And wild roses, and ivy serpentine, With its dark buds and leaves wandering astray; And flowers, azure, black, and streak'd with gold, Fairer than any waken'd eyes behold.

And nearer to the river's trembling edge There grew broad flag-flowers, purple prank'd with white, And starry river-buds among the sedge, And floating water-lilies, broad and bright, Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge With moonlight beams of their own watery light; And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen.

Methought that of these visionary flowers I made a nosegay, bound in such a way That the same hues which in their natural bowers Were mingled or opposed, the like array Kept these imprison'd children of the Hours Within my hand;—and then, elate and gay, I hasten'd to the spot whence I had come, That I might there present it—O! to whom?

617. Remorse

WAY! the moor is dark beneath the moon, Rapid clouds have drunk the last pale beam of even: Away! the gathering winds will call the darkness soon, And profoundest midnight shroud the serene lights of heaven.

Pause not! the time is past! Every voice cries 'Away!' Tempt not with one last tear thy friend's ungentle mood: Thy lover's eye, so glazed and cold, dares not entreat thy stay: Duty and dereliction guide thee back to solitude.