‘With longing admiration, have I marked
‘Thy step grow prouder, and the mantling flush
‘Of beauty richer, ’neath the adoring gaze,
‘As the young flower doth brighten into bloom,
‘From the sun’s ardent glance!
‘Teresa.
‘Nay—nay—you wrong me
‘To say I love such scenes. I ask no voice
‘To sound my praise, dear father, if your eye
‘Look smilingly upon me!