THE WREATH.
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Was like an earth flame's sudden breath,
Sprung from the ruin'd soil beneath.
They had not met, since to the maid
His first rash vow of love was said;
But heard we how, by penance, prayer,
She strove to wash away the sin,
That ever Infidel had share
A Christian maiden's breast within:
And there perchance were other tears
Than those which flow'd from holy fears.
I know not what vain dream had sprung
In Mirza. Is it that despair,
Ere the last veil aside is flung,
Unable its own words to bear,
Will borrow from hope's charmed tongue?
