29.12.2010, 18:50
THE WOOD-ROSE.
When Wordsworth found those beds of daffodil
Beside the lake, a pleasant sight he saw ;
I came upon a sweetbriar near a rill,
In all its summer bloom, without a flaw :
The set of all its flowers my thought recalls,
And how they took the wind with easy grace ;
They rode their arches, shook their coronals,
And stirr'd their streamers o'er the water's face.
And oh ! to w^atch those azure demoiselles
Glimpsing about the rosy sprays, that dipt
Among the weeds,—how daintily equipt
They were ! how pure their blue against the pink !
Light, flitting forms, that haunt our ponds and wells,
Seen, lost and seen, along the reedy brink.
When Wordsworth found those beds of daffodil
Beside the lake, a pleasant sight he saw ;
I came upon a sweetbriar near a rill,
In all its summer bloom, without a flaw :
The set of all its flowers my thought recalls,
And how they took the wind with easy grace ;
They rode their arches, shook their coronals,
And stirr'd their streamers o'er the water's face.
And oh ! to w^atch those azure demoiselles
Glimpsing about the rosy sprays, that dipt
Among the weeds,—how daintily equipt
They were ! how pure their blue against the pink !
Light, flitting forms, that haunt our ponds and wells,
Seen, lost and seen, along the reedy brink.