| |
Ye elves! when spangled starlight gleams,
That flit beneath the ray,
Till morning darts her magic beams
And pale night hies away:
Ye know where springs each flow'ret rare,
The sweetest seek for me:
I'll weave a chaplet rich and fair—
My father! 'tis for thee!
The flow'rs, the trees, the birds appear
To wait but on my call;
But he whose power has plac'd them here
Is dearer far than all:
My thoughts with tender pleasure rest
On each delight I see;
But all the love that swells in my breast,
My father, is for thee!
Louisa Stuart Costello
Read poems about / on: father, magic, power, night, song, spring, tree
|
|
User Rating: |
|
--
/10
(0 votes) |
|
|
|
Free
Poetry E-Book:
E-mail this poem to e friend