THE LONELY GIRL.
She walk'd alone in the mingled throng,
But there were none to greet her;
The merry dance and the evening song
To her were one day sweeter.
She was dress'd in the pride of fashion's glare,
And diamonds round her glitter'd;
But beneath them lay a soul of care,
By distant thoughts embitter'd.
I saw her smile as her gallant pass'd,—