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Joy

JOY breathes in the sweet airs of spring,
    And in the shy wild blossom hides,
And soars upon the swallow’s wing,
    And with the singing water glides.
 
Where lilies stand, a fragrant crowd,
    Rocked by the warm south wind he lies;
And dreams upon the balmy cloud
    Soft floating in the tender skies;
 
Shines clear from out the crescent sharp,
    Glittering above the sunset’s red,
And of the west wind makes a harp,
    And gleams in starlight overhead.
 
Joy mantles in the golden wine,
    Joy to earth’s humblest doth descend,
And looks at me with cheer divine
    From out the dear eyes of my friend.
Other works by Celia Thaxter...



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