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ANNIE'S DAUGHTER.
ANNIE'S DAUGHTER.
HE lingering charm of a dream that has fled, The rose's breath when the rose is dead,
The echo that lives when the tune is done,
The sunset glories that follow the sun.
Every thing tender and every thing fair
That was, and is not, and yet is there.—
I think of them all when I look in these eyes,
And see the old smile to the young lips rise.
I remember the lilacs, all purple and white,
And the turf at the feet of my heart's delight,
Sprinkled with daisies and violets sweet,
Daintiest floor for the daintiest feet,
And the turf at the feet of my heart's delight,
Sprinkled with daisies and violets sweet,
Daintiest floor for the daintiest feet,
