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FLIGHT OF LEEONA.
In bloom gemm'd depths, where Sylvan branches meet Above dim paths, that thread a still retreat; Where light on tip-toe shy, steals o'er your path, Like some chaste maid unrobing at the bath; There where old warrior pines on high doth tower, In fashion quaint is built the Aylor bower. Here 'Ona now a noon excursion made, And wandered peaceful thro' the silent shade. There, as she went, and could not turn nor stay, But ling'ringly pursued her lonely way, And gazed into the song-stirred woods beyond, She stooped to raise a wayside flow'r with fond And gentle touch, and with a sweet look try To coax the timid azure from its eye. And now she turns upon a mossy seat, Where sings a fern-bound stream beneath her feet, And breathes the orange on the swooning air; Where in her queenly pride the rose blooms fair, And sweet geranium waves her scented hair; There, gazing in the bright face of the stream; Her thoughts swim onward in a gentle dream.
Now, restless Aylor parts this dense retreat, And 'Ona finds reclining, fast asleep;