With happiness?—Behold that form,
Like lily broken by the storm,
Fall’n prostrate on the steps before
The marble threshold of the door!
The well-turned limbs, the noble mien,
The riding-coat of Lincoln green;
The hat, whose plume of sable hue
Its shadow o’er his features threw;
Yon coal-black barb, too, panting near,
All show some youthful cavalier;