A being of the earth. We almost feel
’Tis sacrilege to gaze upon that face
Where thought, emotion, beauty, love, all strive
For the expression.
Hark! she touches now
The strings of her guitar, and wakes that voice,
Whose tones thrill o’er the spirit:—
“He’s away! he’s away! he’s away!
Yet I know he is constant and true,
Still my path is illumed by love’s ray,