Chapter 167 of 280 · 51 words · ~1 min read

III.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent!

_June_ 12, 1814.

THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT.