To tell her that I love her.

[Pg 27]

[Pg 27]

ODE TO A RURAL SCENE

ODE TO A RURAL SCENE

Thy spirit hand hath led me back again,

And where the glowworm and the moth have lain,

To lie and dream!

On everchanging wings,

Of childhood's sweet imaginings.

Or seeking out some shadowy stream,

How I would seem!

Where fall the brown leaves, wandring aimlessly,

Hath waked me not to life, but still to be

A spirit wild!

And on the swinging vine,

As free as Bacchus, munch the wine,

From purple festoons undefiled;

Their nameless child.

Of winding lanes, to seek no shelt'ring place,

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