I've quietly risen, her face to seek,—
Embraced her forehead, and calmly put
Myself to rest in her dimpled cheek.
I've ridden to war on the soldier's plume;
But startled and sprung, at the wild affray,—
The sights of horror—of fire and fume;
And fled on the wings of the wind away.
I've visited courts, and been ushered in
By the proudest guest of the stately scene;
I've touched his majesty's bosom-pin,