Where the fox-glove in solitude grows.
In the last rays of sunset thy grey turrets gleam,
Yet I linger with thee—as to muse o'er a dream,
That mournful truths soon will dispel;
My pathway winds onward—life's cares to renew,
And I feel, as thy towers now fade from my view,
'Tis for over—I bid thee farewell!
E.L.J.