ON A PICTURE.
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But while she missed from those sweet sounds,
The voice she sighed to hear;
The song of bee, and bird, and stream,
Was discord to her ear.
The voice she sighed to hear;
The song of bee, and bird, and stream,
Was discord to her ear.
Nor could the bright green world around
A joy to her impart,
For still she missed the eyes that made
The summer of her heart.
A joy to her impart,
For still she missed the eyes that made
The summer of her heart.