Page:Poetical sketches reprint (1868).djvu/43

Rh

RESH from the dewy hill, the merry year Smiles on my head and mounts his flaming car; Round my young brows the laurel wreathes a shade And rising glories beam around my head.

My feet are wing'd while o'er the dewy lawn I meet my maiden risen like the morn. Oh bless those holy feet, like angels' feet; Oh bless those limbs, beaming with heavenly light!

Like as an angel glittering in the sky In times of innocence and holy joy; The joyful shepherd stops his grateful song To hear the music of an angel's tongue.

So when she speaks, the voice of Heaven I hear; So when we walk, nothing impure comes near; Each field seems Eden, and each calm retreat; Each village seems the haunt of holy feet.