Page:The white doe of Rylstone - or, The fate of the Nortons. A poem (IA whitedoeofrylsto00wordrich).pdf/86

 Converging walks, and fountains gay, And terraces in trim array,— Beneath yon cypress spiring high, With pine and cedar spreading wide Their darksome boughs on either side, In open moonlight doth she lie; Happy as others of her kind, That, far from human neighbourhood, Range—unrestricted as the wind— Through park, or chase, or savage wood.

But where at this still hour is she, The consecrated Emily? Even while I speak, behold the Maid Emerging from the cedar shade To open moonshine, where the Doe Beneath the cypress-spire is laid; Like a patch of April snow, Upon a bed of herbage green, Lingering in a woody glade,