Devotion. -- A Vision
Methought I roved on shining walks,
'Mid odorous groves and wreathed bowers.
Where, trembling on their tender stalks,
Fresh op'ning bloom'd the early flowers;
Thick hung the fruit on ev'ry bough,
In ripe profusion clust'ring mellow,
While o'er the peak'd horizon's brow,
The evening ray fell slant and yellow.