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17.

To the ————.

Lady! the songs of Spring were in the groveWhile I was framing beds of winter flowers;While I was planting green unfading bowers,And shrubs to hang upon the warm alcove,And sheltering wall; and still, as fancy woveThe dream, to time and nature's blended powersI gave this paradise for winter hours,A labyrinth Lady! which your feet shall rove.Yes! when the sun of life more feebly shines,Becoming thoughts, I trust, of solemn gloomOr of high gladness you shall hither bring;And these perennial bowers and murmuring pinesBe gracious as the music and the bloomAnd all the mighty ravishment of Spring.
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