  OFT had I heard thy beauty praised, dear flower, And often searched for thee through field and wood, Yet could I never find the secret bower Where thou dost lead in maiden solitude A cloistered life; but on one happy day Wandering in idle thought, with a dear friend, Through dying woods, listening the robin’s lay, I saw thy fairy flowers whose azure gemmed The fading grass beneath a cedar’s boughs. Oh never yet so glad a sight has met These eyes of mine! Depart, before the snows Of hastening winter thy fringed garments wet. Thine azure flowers should never fade nor die, But bloom, exhale, and gain their native sky. November, 1849. |
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