And a soul of song, in a song should go
To the world where they sing for aye.
XXV.
And their fairy fingers were fain to play:
But I was a-going, and gone too far
To listen them longer, as there I lay,
Though each was as lovely as angels are.
And each had locks, like the beamy light,
And lips like the crimson wine,
And eyes, like the stars of the morning, bright,