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KENSINGTON GARDEN.
All in a lawn of many a various hue,A bed of flowers (a fairy forest) grew;"Twas here, one noon, the gaudiest of the May,The still, the secret, silent, hour of day,Beneath a lofty tulips ample shadeSate the young lover, and th' immortal maid.They thought all fairies slept, ah luckless pair!Hid, but in vain, in the suns noon-tide glare!When Albion, leaning on his Kennas breast,Thus all the softness of his soul express'd:"All things are hush'd. The suns meridian raysVeil the horizon in one mighty blaze;Nor moon nor star in heavens blue arch is seen,With kindly rays to silver o'er the green,Grateful to fairy eyes; they secret takeTheir rest, and only wretched mortals wake.This dead of day I fly to thee alone,A world to ine, a multitude in one.Oh sweet as dew-drops on these flowery lawns,When the sky opens, and the evening dawns!Straight as the pink, that towers so high in air,Soft as the blue-bell, as the daisy, fair!Bless'd be the hour, when first I was convey'dAn infant captive to this blissful shade!And bless'd the hand that did my form refine,And shrunk my stature to a match with thine!
