MY MUSE.
3
Yes, my muse is an angel, no mortal hath skill
Thus to play on my heart-harp, and tune it at will
To strains which can strengthen, and solace, and cheer,
Bid the face beam with smiles, check the fast-falling tear.
Since my songster a friend from the skies proves to be,
No more need I ask—who is singing to me?
Thus to play on my heart-harp, and tune it at will
To strains which can strengthen, and solace, and cheer,
Bid the face beam with smiles, check the fast-falling tear.
Since my songster a friend from the skies proves to be,
No more need I ask—who is singing to me?
