Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/124

{{rh|92|{smaller|THE BLUE ANEMONE.}}|}}

But to melt in air away, Mingling with the soft spring-day, When the crystal heavens are still, And faint azure veils each hill, And the lime-leaf doth not move, Save to songs that stir the grove, And earth all glorified is seen, As imaged in some lake serene; —Then thy vanishing should be, Pure and meek Anemone!

Flower! the laurel still may shed Brightness round the victor's head; And the rose in beauty's hair Still its festal glory wear; And the willow-leaves droop o'er Brows which love sustains no more: But by living rays refined, Thou, the trembler of the wind, Thou, the spiritual flower Sentient of each breeze and shower,