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CORINNA.

stood alone; but on her every eye Dwelt in mute ravishment; her long black hair Flew loose upon the gale, but half confin'd By the light veil and wreathes of braided rose, Shading her bosom's matchless ivory, And fell upon the lyre, like hyacinths Twin'd fancifully round; a pensive shade Was on the brightness of her deep blue eyes, Where the sweet tenderness of woman's glance Softened the minstrel's fire that sparkled there.— The song arose; it was just such a strain