THE BENEFACTRESS. 99
Yet oft doth twilight's musing hour thy graceful form
restore, And morning breathe thy mnsic-tone, like Memnon's
harp of yore.
The simple cap that deck'd thy brow is still to memory
dear, Her echoes keep thy cherish'd song that lull'd my infant
ear ; The book from which my lisping tongue was by thy
kindness taught Gleams forth, with all its letter 'd lines, still fresh with
hues of thought.
The flowers, the dear, familiar flowers, that in thy garden grew,
From which thy mantel- vase was fill'd methinks they breathe anew;
Again, the whispering lily bends, and ope those lips of rose,
As if some message of thy love they linger'd to dis- close.
'Tis true, that more than fourscore years had bow'd thy
beauty low, And mingled, with thy cup of life, full many a dreg of
woe,
H 2
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