DAWN IN A BLUEBELL WOOD
In the solemn majesty of solitude
When, all about the bluebell clouded hill,
The fragrant, dim, blue shadows dreamed, I stood;
And many blending perfumes seemed to fill
The old, enchanted wildness of the wood.
Dew-scented winds cool-drifted to caress
The leafy boughs; the shafted sunbeam made
A glimmering, dancing, laughing loveliness
Flow lightly through the ferns and, wavering, fade
Down avenues of blue-veiled quietness.
Sunlight touched the distant, twinkling streams;
Flamed on the slumbering waters, scattering gems
Of riotous colour flashing through the gleams
Of dew-starred leaf and flowered diadems,
Awakening morning from her tranquil dreams.
Quiet there, the heart, no more forlorn,
Found solace in the old, enchanted wood;
Golden light danced down the earth's far lawn,
The misty blue dreamed through the solitude,
The cool and drowsy loveliness of dawn.
