Old earth now groans beneath her load
Of grain and fruited vine,
That thickly hangs o'er orchard wall,
And drips with mellow wine.
The birds fly lazily above,
Bathed in thy misty light,
While on the hillside loll the kine
In morning's gold delight.

Wrapped in thy folds of golden mist,
This restless soul of mine
Is lulled into a blissful dream
Of peace and love divine.

"To a Water-Lily"

Sweet flower, what cold, unfeeling hand
Hath plucked thee from that shady land
Where clear, cool waters lie,
And velvet mosses kissed thy feet?
Who took thee from thy loved retreat,
And left thee here to die?

Thou fairest gem of all the earth--
E'en bonnie wilds that gave thee birth
Thy petals' sweetness hold.
I drink thy breath in fragrant draught,
Sweeter than royal lips e'er quaffed
From cups of burnished gold.

Who took thee from thy crystal home,
Where finny tribes delight to roam
And frisk in morning play;
Where never harsher sound was heard
Than fall of leaf or trill of bird,
Or winds that softly sway

The trees that bend thy nook above,
And, bending, whispered low of love
To thee, my bonnie flower,

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