Page:The Vow of the Peacock.pdf/325



lovely river, thou art now As fair as fair can be, Pale flowers wreathe upon thy brow, The rose bends over thee. Only the morning sun hath leave To turn thy waves to light, Cool shade the willow branches weave When noon becomes too bright. The lilies are the only boats Upon thy diamond plain, The swan alone in silence floats Around thy charm'd domain.