MY OWN.
"My own, my own"—so gaily sings
The merchant with exulting lip;
While the strong, Eastern pinion brings
The heavy freight and gallant ship.
The merchant with exulting lip;
While the strong, Eastern pinion brings
The heavy freight and gallant ship.
"My own, my own"—the miser cries,
O'er tarnish'd dross and parchment fold;
Chain'd where his cumbrous coffer lies,
With hand all close, and heart all cold.
O'er tarnish'd dross and parchment fold;
Chain'd where his cumbrous coffer lies,
With hand all close, and heart all cold.
"My own, my own"—the poet one
Thus fondly hails his minstrel power;
While dreaming in the summer sun,
Or musing in the moonlight hour.
Thus fondly hails his minstrel power;
While dreaming in the summer sun,
Or musing in the moonlight hour.
"My own, my own"—the fair girl says,
Noting her beauty, young and bright;
Smoothing her ringlet as it strays
Upon her cheek, with proud delight.
Noting her beauty, young and bright;
Smoothing her ringlet as it strays
Upon her cheek, with proud delight.
"My own, my own"—these words resound
Distinctly through the Babel noise;
From Kings with mighty nations round,
And infants o'er their gather'd toys.
Distinctly through the Babel noise;
From Kings with mighty nations round,
And infants o'er their gather'd toys.
"My own, my own"—ay, thus we boast—
Short-sighted worshippers of clay;
Yet where's the heart that holds no ghost
Of treasures lent and snatch'd away?
Short-sighted worshippers of clay;
Yet where's the heart that holds no ghost
Of treasures lent and snatch'd away?
Who has not stood beneath Life's tree,
Rapt by some song-bird, perching nigh;
And when the music seem'd to be
The sweetest, seen the warbler fly?
Rapt by some song-bird, perching nigh;
And when the music seem'd to be
The sweetest, seen the warbler fly?
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