Page:The Golden Violet.pdf/19

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With one touch of his radiant wand, Birth to a scene in fairy land. 'T was a small lake, the honey bee Cross'd, laden, in security; From it an elfin island rose, A green spot made for the repose Of the blue halcyon, when an hour Of storm is passing o’er its bower. One lonely tree upon it stood, A willow sweeping to the flood, With darkling boughs and lorn decline, As though even here was sorrow's sign. 'Twas even a haunted place; one part, Like that which is in every heart. Beyond, the gloom was laugh'd away By sparkling wave and dancing spray;—