ND the summer sun shone in the sky,
And the rose's whole life was in its sigh,
When her eyelids were kiss'd by a morning beam,
And the Nymph rose up from her moonlit dream;
For she had watch'd the midnight
Till her head had bow'd like a sleeping flower;
But now she had waken'd, and light and
Gave her morning freshness and morning hue,--Up she sprang, and away she fledO'er the lithe grass stem and the blossom's head,
From the lillies' bells she dash'd not the spray,
For her feet were as light and as white as they.
Sudden upon her arm there shoneA gem with the hues of an Indian stone,
And she knew the insect bird whose
Is sacred to
HE and to spring;
But scarce had her touch its captive
Ere another prisoner was on her breast,
And the Zephyr sought his prize again,--"No," said the Nymph, thy search is vain:
And her golden hair from its braided
Burst like the banner of hope as she spoke,"And instead, fair boy, thou shalt
Over the pleasure that from thee flies;
Then it is pleasure,--for we
But in the search, not in the success."
