Page:The Golden Violet.pdf/222

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Ay, beautiful she was as light Descending on the darken'd sight; But these were not the spells that gave the heart of her charmed slave; But all those sweet gifts that win, Like sunshine, instant entrance in; Those gentle words and acts that bind In love our nature with our kind.

She dwelt within a palace fair Such as in fairy gardens are; There grew her father's cypress tree, No other monument had he. He bade that never funeral stone Should tell of glory overthrown,— What could it say, but foreign sky Had seen the exile pine and die?