When all the rest are clouded.
Sweet as the warbler’s latest strain,
When storms the year have shaded;
Or ling’ring rose that decks the plain
When all the rest have faded.
“Excellent! Admirably sung!” exclaimed Peace. “I’m quite delighted with your voice and your manner of singing.”
“I must not stop any longer,” said the girl; “I expect I shall catch it as it is. Good-night to all!”
And with these words she tripped out of the room.
The landlord now entered.
“Ye be making merry to-night, friends,” said he.