Poems (Botta)/On a Picture (1)
For works with similar titles, see On a Picture.
ON A PICTURE.
When Summer o’er her native hills A veil of beauty spread,She sat and watched her gentle fold, And twined her flaxen thread.
The mountain daisies kissed her feet, The moss sprung greenest there;The breath of Summer fanned her cheek, And tossed her wavy hair.
The heather and the yellow gorse Bloomed over hill and wold,And clothed them in a royal robe Of purple and of gold.
There rose the sky-lark’s gushing song; There hummed the laboring bee;And merrily the mountain stream Ran singing to the sea.
But while she missed from those sweet sounds, The voice she sighed to hear;The song of bee, and bird, and stream, Was discord to her ear.
Nor could the bright green world around A joy to her impart,For still she missed the eyes that made The summer of her heart.