Are in the meadows glimmering; -
Fair sylphids hover o'er the scene,
And fairies sport upon the green.
The wood-nymph, wakened from a dream,
Unconscious of a form so fair,
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Stands gazing in the silver stream
Seeing herself reflected there;
O'erjoyed, she dances through the glade,
To lute by fairy fingers played.
Ah! many a classic bard has flung,
In ornate ode or simple lay,
The tribute of his silver tongue
To sylph and sprite, to faun and fay,
But ne'er was touched the Sapphic string
To kinder fairy than the Spring.
A. L. H.