Page:Poems of Sentiment and Imagination.djvu/182

Rh The deepest eloquence that language owns—
 * The richest power of music, ne'er can tell,

Since that sweet hour when first I heard thy tones,
 * How dear thou art to me, my own Adel!"


 * The lovers parted for a little time—

Oh, hapless parting! Yet one had but gone To make a Paradise for his young bride— To gather birds and flowers to his home— To hang his palace walls with pictures rare— To place rich gifts and music in her room— To load the polished shelves with choicest books, And blend refinement with the lavish wealth Profusely scattered through that lovely home! And when the fruit hung golden on the trees, And the bright air of autumn wound the leaves Whose gorgeous hues robed earth in loveliness, And made soft, dreamy shadows on her breast, And all the air was full of a sweet sound Made by their rustling music, then was he To claim the mistress of that fairy place.


 * Adel was slowly pacing to and fro

Upon a green bank by the river-side. Where first they met.The faint wind waved her hair, And sent the leaflets fluttering to her feet, That like bright butterflies, perched on the trees And humming to each other, swung above. Her tiny footsteps heedless pressed them down Into the mossy turf; and those bright curls Wore not the glowing wreath she loved to weave Of autumn glory, in her idle hours, Was that young creature, with the musing step, Dreaming of future happiness and love— Dwelling upon the coming bridal hour—