Page:Poems Welby.djvu/98

To lay my warm brow to the breeze that wooeth
 The wild sea-ripples to the sounding shore—
The soft south breeze that perfume round us streweth—
 But ah! 't is vain—my eye is shaded o'er.

My little sister often softy layeth
 Her velvet cheek to mine, and bids me go
Where the young moss-rose its soft bloom displayeth,
 And the wild daisies in their brightness glow;
I hear her small feet as she lightly dances
 Like a winged fairy o'er the emerald grass,
She thinks not of her sister's clouded glances,
 For where she trips the blind girl may not pass.

When my young brother in his beauty boundeth
 Up with the lark to greet the morning sky,
While through the forest-aisles his laugh resoundeth,
 The tear drops gather to my darkened eye;
And when, with rosy cheek and bright eye burning,
 He seeks my side in all his boyish glee,
My heart is troubled with a secret yearning
 To meet his glance—but ah! I cannot see.

My meek fond mother tells me I am brighter
 Than the sweet flowers she twines amid my hair;
She thinks her praise will make my spirit lighter,
 But O! I pine not to be bright or fair;
I may be lovelier than the violet flower,
 That shines, they say, beneath its broad leaves hid,