Xiv

Then, blushing to a fairer tint Than waves might ever hope to catch, "I see," she cried, "a lovely print; But surely I can never match This lily glint!

"So pure, so innocent, and bright, So charming free, without endeavour, So fancy-touched with pensive light I I think that I could gaze for ever, With new delight

"And now that rose-bud in my hair, Perhaps it should be placed above-- And yet, I will not change it, love, Since mou hast set it there.