Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/289

Rh

As the clear dews in morning's beam, With soft reflected colouring stream, Catch every tint of eastern gem, To form the rose's diadem; But vanish, when the noontide hour, Glows fiercely on the shrinking flower; Thus in thy soul each calm delight, Like morn's first dew-drops, pure and bright. Fled swift from passion's blighting fire, Or lingered only to expire!

Spring on thy native hills again, Shall bid neglected wild-flowers rise, And call forth, in each grassy glen, Her brightest emerald dyes! There shall the lonely mountain rose, Wreath of the cliffs, again disclose; 'Midst rocky dells, each well-known stream, Shall sparkle in the summer beam; The birch, o'er precipice and cave, Its feathery foliage still shall wave;