104 

 ZEPHYR AND CHLORIS. 



Round her glen, the live-long day. 



He would stray and sigh : 

 Noon and eve and twilight came. 



Still he lingered nigh. 



When her sister, the young Dawn, 



Hurried from the gaze of day. 

 She would sit, among the flowers. 



To weep her grief away. 



Zephyrus, with a violet wreathe 



Dried up her tears of dew; 

 And where the fragrant chaplet fell 



More odorous blossoms grew. 



At noon-tide when she sought the shade 



He still was near her there, 

 And wafted through the green-wood gloom 



A cool and perfumed air. 



When she slept he wove a song. 



Full of passion's pain ; 

 Wild and sweet, yet sometimes sad. 



Like a spirit's strain. 



Then he whispered in her ear — 



With a playful wile — 

 Some soft words : she slumbered on ; 



Fair dreams made her smile. 



Many a long — long kiss of love 

 He sealed on her warm breast ; 



So bland in touch, it never stirred 

 Her deep and balmy rest. 



Franz. 



