10
THE GOLDEN VIOLET.
With one touch of his radiant wand,
Birth to a scene in fairy land.
'T was a small lake, the honey bee
Cross'd, laden, in security;
From it an elfin island rose,
A green spot made for the repose
Of the blue halcyon, when an hour
Of storm is passing o’er its bower.
One lonely tree upon it stood,
A willow sweeping to the flood,
With darkling boughs and lorn decline,
As though even here was sorrow's sign.
'Twas even a haunted place; one part,
Like that which is in every heart.
Beyond, the gloom was laugh'd away
By sparkling wave and dancing spray;—
