Page:Bijou Almanacks.pdf/5



Oh, many are the lovely shapes That glide along thy lovelier line, And glorious is the breathing life That warms that burning page of thine.

But never yet a form more fair Amid the poet's visions moved, Than Thekla, thy sweet fancy's child, The German maid who 'lived and loved.'

For her sad sake shall woman's tears Bedew thy low sepulchral cell, And say—thrice blessed be the sleep Of him who knew our hearts so well.