Page:The Amulet for 1826.pdf/15



How the lone paths retrace, where thou wert playing So late along the mountains at my side?
 * And I, in joyous pride,

By every place of flowers my course delaying, Wove, e'en as pearls, the lilies round thy hair,
 * Beholding thee so fair!

And, oh! the home whence thy bright smile hath parted! Will it not seem as if the sunny day
 * Turn'd from its door away,

While, thro' its chambers wandering weary-hearted, I languish for thy voice, which past me still,
 * Went like a singing rill?

Under the palm-trees, thou no more shalt meet me, When from the fount at evening I return,
 * With the full water-urn!

Nor will thy sleep's low, dove-like murmurs greet me, As midst the silence of the stars I wake,
 * And watch for thy dear sake.

And thou, will slumber's dewy cloud fall round thee Without thy mother's hand to smooth thy bed?
 * Wilt thou not vainly spread

Thine arms, when darkness as a veil hath wound thee, To fold my neck; and lift up, in thy fear,
 * A cry which none shall hear?