12 THE BOUQUET. 



And pleas'd the happy and the proud, 

 Or solaced sorrow's child. 



As storm-clouds pass o'er summer skies, 



Dimming their gay and brilliant dies, 



So pass'd the gloomy shade of woe 



Across the Fairy's radiant brow. 



The while she gazed, in mute despair, 



Around the dwelling once so fair ; 



Awhile she mus'd ; awhile she mourn d 



Upon the wreck and ruin near her ; 



But soon, Uke dawning light, return'd 



Hope's gentle smile to cheer her. 



And she resolv'd, despite the pain 



Or peril such attempt might cost. 



To roam thro' many a varied scene 



In search of the sweet flowers she'd lost. 



Then, quick as thought, she plum'd her wmg 



And, like a rosy cloud of even 



Floating upon the breath of Spring, 



Rose gracefully to the blue Heaven 



And soar'd away. Onward she flew, 



O'er hill and vale and streamlet blue, 



Nor paus'd until she spied afar. 



Soft gleaming thro' the lucid air. 



The city's towers and temples fair. 



With joy she hails the welcome sight 



And, wearied with her rapid flight. 



She gladly gains a lofty tower 



And folds the drooping wing, whose power. 



Is for a season lost. With timid mein 



She looks upon the wildering scene 



That meets her eye below. 



