COUCHED in cool shadow, girt by billowy swells Of foliage, rippling into buds and flowers, Here I repose o'erfanned by breezy bowers, -- Lulled by a delicate stream whose music wells Tender and low through those luxuriant dells, Wherefrom a single broad-leaved chestnut towers; -- Still musing in the long, lush, languid hours, -- As in a dream I heard the tinkling bells Of far-off kine, glimpsed through the verdurous sheen, Blent with faint bleatings from the distant croft, -- The bee-throngs murmurous in the golden fern, The wood-doves veiled by depths of flickering green, -- And near me, where the wild "queen fairies" burn, The thrush's bridal passion, warm and soft! |