Page:Poems of Sentiment and Imagination.djvu/155

Rh Does not thy mother, Nature, breathe of love

In every smiling feature? Is not her voice

Ever most eloquent of tenderness?

And wilt thou, her sweet child, reject her teaching,

And find in scorn a refuge from her power?

Azlea. I am yet but a child, but if to know

That Azlea, in her simple ignorance,

Hath let a stranger occupy her thoughts

More than was coy and maidenly; and hath

Even had dreams of strange, delicious sweetness,

In which she deemed she loved and was beloved—

If to know this would give thee happy thoughts,

Though blushing at her own temerity,

Azlea would still acknowledge it.

Alver. God bless thee, lovely one, for those sweet words!

When in the world, of which you have such dread,

It will be the sweet solace of my toils,

To think of thee, and dream of coming years,

In which my Azlea and myself shall share

The dearest joys of earth! and until then

Thou wilt remember me with love—wilt thou?

Azlea. Azlea can not forget thee.

Alver.Now I go

To try my fortunes in the capital;

To catch the inspiration lingering round

The works of the great masters; and to feast

My soul with beauty and with power. But

I'll carry in my memory a scene,

And a presiding spirit, far more bright

Than any art can pencil or imagine.