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A POET’S DAUGHTER.
FOR THE ALBUM OF MISS * * * *, AT THE REQUEST OF HER FATHER.
“
lady asks the Minstrel’s rhyme.”
A Lady asks? There was a time
When musical as play-bell’s chime
To wearied boy,
That sound would summon dreams sublime
Of pride and joy.
But now the spell hath lost its sway,
Life’s first-born fancies first decay,
Gone are the plumes and pennons gay
Of young Romance;
There linger but her ruins gray,
And broken lance.
’Tis a new world—no more to maid,
Warrior, or bard, is homage paid;
The bay-tree’s, laurel’s, myrtle’s shade,
Men’s thoughts resign;
Heaven placed us here to vote and trade,
Twin tasks divine!
