Page:Felicia Hemans in The Literary Souvenir 1828.pdf/14

IV.
Oh! thou hast wandered long
    From thy home without a guide,
And thy native woodland song
    In thine altered heart hath died.

V.
Thou hast flung the wealth away,
    And the glory of thy spring,
And to thee the leaves' light play
    Is a long-forgotten thing.

VI.
—But when wilt thou return?
    Sweet dews may freshen soon
The flower within whose urn
    Too fiercely gazed the noon.

VII.
O'er the image of the sky
    Which the lake's clear bosom wore,
Darkly may shadows lie—
    But not for evermore.

VIII.
Give back thy heart again
    To the gladness of the woods,
To the birds' triumphant strain,
    To the mountain-solitudes!