Page:The Golden Violet.pdf/40

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She enter'd, and it cut the tide; Odours and music fill'd the sail, As if a rose and lute had sigh'd A mingled breath upon the gale. It was at first a lovely scene: Leaves and branches wreathed a screen, Sunbeams there might wander through; Glimpses of a sky of blue, Like the hopes that smile to cheer The earthliness of sorrow here; And like summer queens, beside, Roses gazed upon the tide, Each one longing to caress Her own mirror'd loveliness; And the purple orchis shone Rich, as shines an Indian stone;