Page:Troubadour.pdf/14

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But there were other dearer dreams Than the light'ning flash of these war gleams That fill'd the depths of heart; For his was now the loveliest part Of the young poet's life, when first, In solitude and silence nurst, His genius rises like a spring Unnoticed in its wandering; Ere winter cloud or summer ray Have chill'd, or wasted it away, When thoughts with their own beauty fill'd   Shed their own richness over all, As waters from sweet woods distill'd   Breathe perfume out where'er they fall. I know not whether Love can fling A deeper witchery from his wing