Wood, The—A Dream
Whate'er of verdure fresh or shade serene
With tranquil calm could heart or senses slake,
Methought encircled me, and seemed to make
A still retreat, a pleasant forest-scene.
Whate'er of springing buds or blossom's sheen
Hath round me glowed—in dreams, or whilst awake—
Shaped like a huntress fair, all lightly brake—
(Herself the forest-flower)—thro' bushes green.
She fled; I followed fast with many a prayer,
And now mine arms were almost round her thrown,
When lo! my morning-dream dissolved in air!
O fate! thou bringst my every hope to naught!
Not only hath the lovely vision flown,
But e'en the wood wherein she might be sought!
With tranquil calm could heart or senses slake,
Methought encircled me, and seemed to make
A still retreat, a pleasant forest-scene.
Whate'er of springing buds or blossom's sheen
Hath round me glowed—in dreams, or whilst awake—
Shaped like a huntress fair, all lightly brake—
(Herself the forest-flower)—thro' bushes green.
She fled; I followed fast with many a prayer,
And now mine arms were almost round her thrown,
When lo! my morning-dream dissolved in air!
O fate! thou bringst my every hope to naught!
Not only hath the lovely vision flown,
But e'en the wood wherein she might be sought!
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