72
LINES FOR AN ALBUM.
But much I fear her poet's lyre,
Though tuned with earnest heart,
Can never equal or aspire
To half her painter's art.
Though tuned with earnest heart,
Can never equal or aspire
To half her painter's art.
No flowers have I of hue so bright
As his to adorn the page,
No brilliant tints to attract the sight,
And pleased regard engage;
As his to adorn the page,
No brilliant tints to attract the sight,
And pleased regard engage;
Else should the rose of England twine
With Erin's shamrock green,
And friendship's ivy-leaf divine
Bloom verdantly between.
With Erin's shamrock green,
And friendship's ivy-leaf divine
Bloom verdantly between.
