Sweet jessamines are blooming. Fairy land
Is not more beautiful, than when, full blown,
The jasmine, gilt by the Creator’s hand,
Hangs all around us. Then ’tis sweet to stand,
At early morning, with a friend we love,
Beneath our fragrant bowers, while pure and bland,
The playful zephyrs o’er the flow’rets move,
And bring a perfumed breath from many a dewy grove.
V.
I had a gentle sister once; and, O,