O, Mossy Fane
O, Mossy Fane O, Mossy Fane Beside the brook that sang by Eden’s glade, Stood my small bower of meek and mossy wood; There first mine eyes, like weeping rose, displayed Their dawn in Savior’s smile, so purely good. The splendid sun on fair Varendra shone, While April’s birds in emerald branches played; And Mother’s voice, with sweet old visions drawn, Made holy even-song within the shade. The shallow winds came dancing through my room, Then fled, then came, like angels crowned with spring; And green-tressed flowers upon the river's bloom Did bend and hearken while the panes did sing O mossy fane, you are a lost Paradise to me, My bosom still weeps beside your sacred tree. ---Affaq N Affaq #ForeverSonnets #PoetAffaq #AffaqPoemHunterDotCom