George Darley

Lenimina Laborum. 60. Zephyre among the Flowers

When the bright-haired Morn
With her dropping horn
Blows sweet on the mountain-side,
Where the dale-queens lie
With a light foot, I
O'er their green tiaras glide.

I waken each flower
In her grassy bower,
But I do not,—dare not stay.
For I must begone
To attend the Sun
At the eastern gate of the day.

Fare thee well! farewell!
As I leave her cell,
I can hear the young rose sigh:
And the harebell too
Bids me oft adieu,
With a tear in her dim blue eye.

As pale as the snow
Doth the lily grow
When my wild feet near her rove;
Yet she lets me sip
Of her nectarous lip
As long and as deep as I love.

To make me her prize
Pretty primrose tries,
Kissing and clasping my feet;
But violets cling
So fast by my wing.
That my feathers are full of them yet!

Each flower of the lea
Has a bed for me,
But I will not,—cannot stay;
For I must begone
To attend the Sun
At the western gate of the day.