And thy cheek a flush hath caught
From the joy of kindled thought;—
And the burning words of song
From thy lips flow fast and strong,
With a rushing stream's delight
In the freedom of its might.
VI.
Radiant daughter of the sun!
Now thy living wreath is won.
Crowned of Rome!—oh! art thou not
Happy in that glorious lot?—
Happier, happier far, than thou
With the laurel on thy brow,
She that makes the humblest hearth
Lovely but to one on earth!
Page:Felicia Hemans in The Literary Souvenir 1827.pdf/13
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