Are anchored to a leaden hoof.
And yet, are other days, that bear
No weight of pessimistic sin—
A laurel leaf for me to wear,
A thought to stir, a smile to win;
And o’er the sea
There comes to me
The echo of a symphony
That sets the smiling world a-spin.
[50]
]Now carmine-hued are Renée’s lips,