The wild tones of the Æolian harp,
All tell some touching tale of thee;
There's not a tender lovely thing
But brings thee to our mind.
Mrs. Follen.
51. 'Tis not your part,
Out of your fond misgivings, to perplex
The fortunes of the man to whom you cleave;
'Tis yours to weave all that you have of fair
And bright, in the dark meshes of their web.