Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/215

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Like moonlight on shut bells Of flowers, in mossy dells, Filled with the hush of night and summer skies!

How many hearts have felt Your silent beauty melt Their strength to gushing tenderness away! How many sudden tears, From depths of buried years All freshly bursting, have confessed your sway!

How many eyes will shed Still, o'er your marble bed, Such drops from memory's troubled fountains wrung. While hope hath blights to bear, While love breathes mortal air; While roses perish e'er to glory sprung,

Yet from a voiceless home, If some sad mother come,