Page:The Golden Violet.pdf/21

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To mark the green leaves' glad outside, Then search what wither'd boughs they hide. And here the countess took her seat Beneath the chestnut, shelter meet For one whose presence might beseem The spirit of the shade and stream; As now she lean'd with upraised head, And white veil o'er her bosom spread, Hiding the gems and chains of gold Which too much of rank's baubles told; Leaving her only with the power Of nature in its loveliest hour, When to its musing look is given The influence of its native heaven. Her cheek was pale, the hue of thought, Like image by the sculptor sought