Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/343

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Perchance the maid I love, e'en now, From Dinas Brân's majestic brow, Looks o'er the fairy world below, And listens to the sound!

I feel her presence on the scene! The summer-air is more serene, The deep woods wave in richer green, The wave more gently flows! Oh! fair as Ocean's curling foam!* Lo! with the balmy hour I come, The hour that brings the wanderer home, The weary to repose!

Haste! on each mountain's darkening crest, The glow hath died, the shadows rest,