Maxioms by Mrs. Felicia D. Hemans
The wind, the wandering wind
Of the golden summer eyes--
Whence is the thrilling magic
read more
The wind, the wandering wind
Of the golden summer eyes--
Whence is the thrilling magic
Of its tunes amongst the leaves?
Oh, is it from the waters,
Or from the long, tall grass?
Or is it from the hollow rocks
Through which its breathings pass?
I come, I come! ye have called me long,
I come o'er the mountain with light and song:
read more
I come, I come! ye have called me long,
I come o'er the mountain with light and song:
Ye may trace my step o'er the wakening earth,
By the winds which tell of the violet's birth,
By the primrose-stars in the shadowy grass,
By the green leaves, opening as I pass.
