When grief unfolds, like you,
Her breast, for heavenly dew
In silent hours to fill.
THE WANDERER AND THE NIGHT-FLOWERS.
“Call back your odours, lovely flowers!
From the night-winds call them back;
And fold your leaves till the laughing hours
Come forth in the sunbeam’s track!
“The lark lies couch’d in her grassy nest,
And the honey-bee is gone,