Men flocking round me, I find I'm admir'd;

Praise is as sweet as a gratified whim;

When a girl pleases she never feels tir'd—

Harry smiles at me, and I smile at him.

Through the open doors of a crystal dome

Sweet is the scent of the tropical flowers,

The splendid exiles who, banish'd from home,

Are sparkling and shining to gladden ours.

Figures appearing 'mid blossom and fruit,

In an airy, fairy, magical way;

Their lips keep moving altho' they are mute

For ears too distant to hear what they say.

[pg 44]

From a lily bud can a voice be sent?—

'Let us hope the Captain's wild oats are sown;

A pretty young wife should make him content'—

Only a word in a soft-spoken tone!

Moving serenely 'mid beauty and song,

Am not I born for the glittering throng?

Treading on roses with delicate feet,

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