“Pleasant words!” The river’s wave
That ripples every minute
On the shore we love so well,
Hath not such music in it;
Nor are the songs of breeze or birds,
Half so sweet as “pleasant words!”
DIRGE.
ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY.
———
“Pleasant words!” The river’s wave
That ripples every minute
On the shore we love so well,
Hath not such music in it;
Nor are the songs of breeze or birds,
Half so sweet as “pleasant words!”
ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY.
———