Page:The Romance of Nature; or, The Flower-Seasons Illustrated.djvu/333

207 My humbler offering she took,

Red, trembling, as in scorn,

Nor deigned vouchsafe me e'en a look—

And 'twas her birth-day morn!

Oh! had her angel eye the power

To kill, or turn to stone,

I'd better borne such glance that hour

Than that averted one.

And forth I wandered—and I vowed

My fond wild dream was o'er;—

I would but mingle in the crowd

And gaze on her once more.

It was the evening of that day,

That day when laughter glad

Rang out, mid dance and mirthful play,

From some—while I was sad.

'Twas evening, and the crowded hall

Mocked the less dazzling day;

And rainbow-like the hues that all

Shone in that festal ray.