Page:The Golden Violet.pdf/20

Rh

One of those glowing spots that take The sunbeams prisoners, and make A glory of their own delight, Below all clear, above all bright. And every bank was fair; but one Most sheltered from the wind and sun Seem'd like a favourite: the rest Bared to the open sky their breast; But this was resting in the shade By two old patriarch chestnuts made, Whose aged trunks peep'd grey and bare Spite of the clustering ivy's care, Which had spread over all its wreath, The boughs above, the ground beneath;— Oft told and true similitude For moralist in pensive mood,