My wild and winsome jessamine-tree, Like silver spray-drops, down to fall: My free and feathery jessamine-tree, And the chain'd captive sigh'd for death: I dream not, while I gaze on thee; BEES. EARL OF CARLISLE. YE musical hounds of the fairy king, Who hunt for the golden dew, Who track for your game the green coverts of spring, How joyous your life, if its pleasures ye knew, Ye wander the summer year's paradise through, But unenvied your joys, while the richest you miss, Who would part with his cares for enjoyment like this, When the tears that embitter the pure spirit's bliss May be pearls in the crown of the skies! |