Who fancied what a pretty sight
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Who fancied what a pretty sight
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Who fancied what a pretty sight This Rock would be if edged around With living snow-drops? circlet bright! How glorious to this orchard-ground! Who loved the little Rock, and set Upon its head this coronet? Was it the humour of a child? Or rather of some gentle maid, Whose brows, the day that she was styled The shepherd-queen, were thus arrayed? Of man mature, or matron sage? Or old man toying with his age? I asked—’twas whispered; The device To each and all might well belong: It is the Spirit of Paradise That prompts such work, a Spirit strong, That gives to all the self-same bent Where life is wise and innocent. |
Catalogue of Titles