To the Bluebell

Sacred watcher, wave thy bells!

Fair hill flowers and woodland child,
Dear to me in deep green dells,
Dearest on the mountains wild.

Bluebell, even as all divine
I have seen my darling shine;
Bluebell, even as fair and frail
I have seen my darling fail.
Lift thy head and speak to me,
Soothing thoughts are breathed by thee.
Thus they whisper, 'Summer's sun
Lights me till my life is done;
Would I rather choose to die
Under winter's stormy sky?

Glad I bloom, and calm I fade,
Dews of heaven are round me staid
Mourner, mourner, dry thy tears,
Sorrow comes with lengthened years.'