116
THE PIMPERNEL.
Bright blossoms wet with showery tears
On her shut eyes their droplets shed.
Only the wakened waves she hears
That singing drown his rapid tread.
On her shut eyes their droplets shed.
Only the wakened waves she hears
That singing drown his rapid tread.
"Sweet, I am here!" Joy's gates swing wide,
And heaven is theirs, and all is well,
And left beside the ebbing tide
Forgotten is the pimpernel.
And heaven is theirs, and all is well,
And left beside the ebbing tide
Forgotten is the pimpernel.
