Bring your vain answers-cry, "We think of thee!"
How think ye of her? warm in long ago
Delights? or crowned with budding bays? Not so.
None smile and none are crowned where lieth she,
With all her visions unfulfilled save one,
Her childhood's, of the palm-trees in the sun-
And lo! their shadow on her sepulchre!
COPYRIGHT(©) 2022
