Songs, like sounds that ’mid strings stray,
Fill this breast of mine,
Smiling round my lips they play,
In my eyes they shine!
A LITTLE PICTURE.
AFTER THE PROCLAMATION OF THE 19TH FEB., 1861, FREEING THE SERFS.
See, in peasant’s cottage, flickering
Shines a little fire,
Where, around a little maiden,
Draws a circle nigher.
And from word to word her finger